


Sunflower

by dnawhite76, Prubbs



Series: The Sunflower Series [1]
Category: DCU (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Character Death, Established Relationship, M/M, Magic, Romance, Royalty, Secret Relationship, a little sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 169,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25719631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dnawhite76/pseuds/dnawhite76, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prubbs/pseuds/Prubbs
Summary: As the heir to the Kingdom of Gotham, Damian had been told his entire life that magic and the people who wield it were the very worst kind of evil. But when they are attacked by an enemy kingdom and it seems that all will be lost, his best friend and soulbound knight has no choice but to resort to magic to save him, sending them on a quest in the shadows of their fathers and into a past that neither of them are prepared to face.Welcome to the Summer of Super.
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne
Series: The Sunflower Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018735
Comments: 132
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _"Real magic can never be made by offering someone else's liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back." - **Peter S. Beagle** , THE LAST UNICORN_

It was a perfect day for picking flowers. The sun was hot and the breeze just soft enough that it carried his mother's words into the soil to help them bloom. Jon watched the sunflower twist upwards until it bloomed with the rest of them--a wall tall enough that he had to stretch to see over the top. He’d been told that years ago, when his grandparents owned the small farm house, the patch had originally been a field covered in corn as far as the eye could see. But throughout the years the field had dwindled to a small square that stretched along the side of their home. After his parents had married, his father had let his mother take over. Originally she had planted a small plot of wild flowers and herbs, helpful things that she'd put into her potions and salves. But after his brother had died, she became the town midwife and committed the garden to nothing but sunflowers so that she could use it’s oils to help new mothers. Well, that and other things. Jon had only known it this way, and he'd always loved them. The smell and the structure of them. When he was a kid he'd run through the field and hide in the forest of flowers when his mother wanted him to practice his incantations. 

He knew that herbology was a woman's magic, but his parents had never taught him that he shouldn't know it. And with the buzz it left on his skin just being near it, Jon was happier for it. There was a wealth of magic in the earth that was often ignored by more traditional mages. Power that laid untouched - waiting for the right person to reach out. New magic. Jon’s magic and the magic of his mother's family, a touch of every one of them reaching toward the sky in full bloom. He found his mother at the corner of the garden, clipping flowers with her shears as she whispered spells of protection into them. She smiled when she saw Jon approaching and tucked the flowers into a small woven basket. 

"You were sleeping hard," she commented, eyes flicking up to the sun that was starting toward the middle of the sky. "Late night with the Prince?" 

Jon smiled sheepishly and rubbed at the back of his neck before he shrugged figuring she would see right through the lie. "His mind was occupied." 

"When is it not?" She smirked and tucked away the last of the flowers. "Here, take him these," she told him, handing over the basket. "Maybe it will help him rest." 

"Damian does not want flowers, Ma," he insisted, but she pushed the flowers into his hands anyway. 

"Speak his name over them," she continued, ignoring his objection. "They will protect him too," she called over her shoulder as she headed back to the house. 

Jon sighed as he watched her, knowing that she was correct. Still, he waited for the door to close after her before he held the basket up to his face and whispered, _"Damian,"_ into the petals, watching them shiver before heading down the path to the castle. 

He tucked the basket under his arm where he knew that the shiver would go unnoticed as he wound his way through the town, waving to the shopkeeps as he passed. Magic was a known art throughout the kingdom but, since the war, it had been marked an offense punishable by death throughout the kingdom. 

Before Jon was born, Gotham had fought a terrible war with a powerful kingdom of dark mages to the west called Aserath. The war caused a terrible devastation to the kingdom, and the death count was high. But just when they thought that they were safe from the worst of it-- a truce called while their forces regrouped and healed-- a rogue group of assassins were sent to deal with the King. Only the King had not yet returned from the front. And not wanting to go back to Aserath empty handed, they took the life of the Queen and when the alarm had sounded that had run, but not before stopping by the Crown Prince's chambers where he had been hiding with Jon's brother, Konner. 

Magic had been banned from Gotham ever since. 

His parents had told him the stories of the false accusations that came from fear, ending lives of innocent men and women in the search for wielders. They had hoped these would scare him into being more careful, but Jon knew that most people wouldn't look far enough into the Kents for their fear to truly manifest itself. The Kents had been companions of the royal family for years, honor and soul bound to serve and advise them. But, above all, to make sure no harm came to them. A soul bond was old magic, a mark of one's spirit on someone that could never be destroyed or erased. His father had been bound to the King since before the war, and Jon had been destined to be bound to the Prince since before he was even born. His family was the very last on any mind when it came to magic. 

The guards at the gate smiled easily as they waved Jon in, not bothering a second look at him as he started up the steps past the second set. He moved easily through the wide hallways and waved at some of the palace workers. He heard a group of maids giggling as they ran by him and he rolled his eyes before he knocked on the chamber door at the very end of the hall. He pushed in before there was an answer. 

Damian was half dressed at his desk, one foot on the table and a book in his hand as the other fiddled with one of the strings of his undone shirt. He barely glanced up as Jon walked in, but he noticed the small lift at the corner of his lips before he turned the page and pretended he hadn't seen him. 

"Did you sleep at all?" Jon asked while crossing the room. He focused on the window sill and not Damian’s exposed chest. 

"I sleep enough," he countered and Jon could feel his eyes on his back as he set down the new basket next to the old one. "Why have you brought me more flowers? The old ones have not yet had a chance to die." 

Jon laughed and waved a hand over the old basket. Pulling the magic back out of them until they shriveled. He pulled open the curtain and grabbed the old basket to show him the dried out flowers. "It is as if you do not even take notice of the gifts I bring you." He pouted as he walked back to the desk, emptying the flowers into the bin. He would have saved the petals but they had held his last spell for too long and he knew that the charm had sucked them dry.

Damian turned another page, but he wasn't looking at the book anymore, he was watching Jon over the top. "Maybe I do not like flowers?"

"My mother would be heartbroken if you told her that. And these are from her so you have to at least _pretend_ that you like them when you see her." Jon set the basket on the desk and leaned against it next to Damian's foot. Damian put his book down and looked at him. He was beautiful, everything that a prince should be. He had been beautiful Jon's entire life. He was small when they were children, but had grown tall and strong in his formative years. It made him every bit a brooding visage of a dark hero sent from the gods to save the day. Just like the ones from the books they read as children. Damian dropped his foot off of the desk and stood up so that he was almost flush with Jon as he set the book next to the basket. Jon's eyes flicked to the door and back as Damian looked over him. "It is light outside," he warned him under his breath. 

"I don't care," Damian told him and closed the small distance to steal any other protest from him. 

The Prince had never shown interest in women. When they were growing up, princesses from all over were in and out of Gotham dying to catch a glimpse of the dark heir that was destined to tame the world. Damian's mother had been said to be a great beauty from a distant land, her son taking very strongly after her while still having the shape and bearing of his handsome father. It made everyone curious. Jon had watched Damian's interactions. Disinterest and disdain always filtering any alliance out of his decisions. Every person always left him bored and disappointed-- except for Jon. 

The first time that it had happened Jon was taken aback. They had been sparring in the courtyard and it was late, too late for them to be out alone. He had figured that Damian had been moved by adrenaline, the excitement of disobeying the rules pushing him over the edge. But then it happened again. And again. And eventually they made an unspoken rule of it. If it was after dark, it didn't matter. Many princes visited brothels and had their escapades. So the night was free for them to take. But lately Damian had been pushing that limit. 

Jon gripped his shoulders with every intention of pushing him back and reminding him again of their unspoken rule-- but even as he thought that, he knew he had no real power here. He sunk against him, hands sliding down the arms that wound around him. For as long as he had known his own name, Jon knew that Damian was his. His charge. His responsibility. His person. To protect, motivate and to love-- though he knew this probably wasn't how that was intended. The fates had put them together, and if that was forbidden then so be it. So was everything else about his family, what was one more thing if it made Damian happy? 

He grabbed at Damian's shirt, fingers running over the edge until it met his smooth skin and he groaned into Jon's mouth. His hands gripped under Jon's ass and pulled him up so that he was sitting on the desk, legs wrapping around Damian when there was a knock at the door and a call that the King would be coming in. Damian yanked Jon back off the desk and ran a hand through his hair, Jon grabbing at the laces of his shirt and pretended to have been trying them as the door pushed open and Bruce stepped in. He made a face at his son. 

"You have a dresser for that," he told him grabbing Jon's shoulder to tell him to stop. 

"And I have a _Jon_ for everything," Damian deadpanned at him as Jon laughed and pat Bruce's hand so that he'd let go. 

"It is no burden to me, Your Majesty," he told him as he went to grab Damian's vest and slip it on for him. 

Bruce sighed, but the look he gave Jon was nothing but fond. "You will spoil your wife someday," he told him. Jon had to pinch Damian when he glared at his father for it. "Care to join us in court? Maybe that will keep my son from making another farmer cry." 

Jon straightened Damian's vest, tracing a finger over the pressure points of his lower back and feeling the tension fade out of him instantly. "Of course, Your Majesty," he said with a small bow and mouthed ' _another one?'_ at Damian as they followed the king out of the room. 

\---

Damian was bored. He knew that meeting with village leaders and the common folk was important. But it was always so tedious. He'd much rather be back in his room with Jon. 

He caught himself looking toward Jon who stood beside his throne before forcing his gaze down at the man before him. He was the chief of one of their northern towns and for what felt like the last century had been expressing his concern about livestock that had gone missing over the last few months. He surveyed the man, older than his father, surely a warrior from the scars on his body and the way he held himself even as he kneeled on the stone. He looked at the guard standing at the doors. There was no need for them, but his father claimed they made the people feel better. _Witnesses_. He'd added silently. Damian looked over to Clark. He stood with his arms crossed across his chest, as if he was one of the statues guarding the castle. Then he saw it. The barest flex of a finger. He didn't think he'd have caught it if he hadn't been looking at the man. 

"Are you certain that it is a pack of wolves?" His father asked, interrupting the chief. 

"W-well no your majesty." 

His father's eyes flicked to Clark for just a moment before asking, "How often does this occur?" 

He watched as the man answered the questions and the silent conversation that his father and Clark carried throughout. The kingdom did not understand the bond between the royal family and the Kents. There were times when he himself didn't. In public they were mere servants, guards, silent and unwavering. In private they were partners. Clark couldn't have asked those questions, so his father was their voice. 

He turned and looked to Jon who was staring at one of the pennants hanging on the wall. He looked as bored as Damian felt. His arms were crossed like his father's. Damian lost himself in following the swell of his muscles beneath his thin shirt to the freckles dusting across his collarbone. He wanted to follow their constellations down his chest. Up his neck to the last one on his jaw. He looked up at Jon's face and saw the faint blush on his cheeks. Jon met his eyes and Damian let go of the bored look and let some of the heat building in him show. Jon's eyes darted behind him. 

"My Prince?" 

"My apologies. What were you saying?" 

"I asked if you thought that the chief was correct in his attribution of the losses to wild animals," Bruce replied. His eyes narrowing in disapproval. 

He looked to Clark and then back to the man. "I would increase your border patrols. It is occurring too consistently for animals to be the most logical choice. Maybe it is bandits in the woods, or maybe it is someone wishing to test your men, and our defenses." He saw the faintest twitch of Clark's lips and knew he had made the right decision. 

"I agree with the Prince. I will send a host of guards to you in two weeks if you have not found evidence that it was only animals." 

The man nodded and bowed before taking his leave. Clark drew his father's attention before he could berate Damian and he gave him a relieved smile. 

Jon leaned down. "Were you even listening?" he hissed. 

"Somewhat. I was distracted. You should button your shirt."

Jon touched his shirt, his slender fingers brushing against his collarbone. Damian swallowed. "It doesn't have a button. Someone tore it off three days ago." Jon chuckled, then his face schooled as he took a half step back and resumed his stance. The doors slowly opened and a royal messenger stepped through them.

Clark and Jon stepped forward in unison as the messenger announced the arrival of not another of their people, but a visitor from one of their neighboring countries. They stood two steps in front of the throne, their arms by their side as they watched the man enter. He saw his father's hand slide down to where the knife was holstered against his thigh. Unannounced arrivals made them all uneasy. Damian glanced at Jon's back and the tension he held in his shoulders as he stood guard. 

"Your majesties," the man began. "I come with the request for a meeting of the marital kind." Jon's shoulders hitched up. Damian looked to the messenger and then his father. He stared down at the man for a few moments before standing. 

"Let us speak in private," Bruce offered. Clark stepped forward and directed the man to a door in the side of the room that led to a set of empty rooms. "I will send for you if we need anything." Damian nodded and stood. Jon stepped forward and held the door open as they headed back into the private halls. He didn't wait for Jon and stomped off toward his room. 

"Damian, slow down," Jon called as he jogged to catch up with him. He didn't slow, but Jon didn't try to get him to slow down when he caught up to him either. They stepped into his empty room and as soon as Jon shut the door Damian pressed him against it. His mouth sought out the line of skin he'd been studying before. Jon's head tilted back, hitting the door as he sighed. He didn't try to stop him this time, didn't remind him that they were breaking their rules. 

"Your father said he would send for you," Jon pointed out as Damian's finger hooked the laces of his pants. 

"Do not talk about my father right now," he said and pulled. 

"We will be caught." 

"And?" he asked. He sucked on a scar on Jon's shoulder as he wrapped his hand around him. Jon's breath left him in a whoosh. He bit on the pale skin and moved what little he could in the confines of Jon's trousers. 

"Get... in trouble," Jon hissed, though he didn't seem to actually want Damian to stop, his hips rocked steadily. 

" _I_ would get yelled at. It is not as if he can take you away from me." He kissed up Jon's neck and bit at his jaw until he turned to meet him in a kiss. He broke it and looked up at Jon's eyes clouded with lust. "You are _mine_. Nothing can change that." 

"Damian," Jon gasped, hips jerking, wanting more. He pulled at the laces, until Jon's pants sunk low on his hips and his dick stood out proud from the fabric. He snaked an arm around Jon's neck, pulling him down into a kiss as he pumped with renewed vigor. Jon's hands scrambled against the fabric of his jacket, sought out skin, but before he could find any he was coming, Damian's name a whisper on his lips. He let his pace slow until he stopped all together and rested his head on Jon's shoulder. He didn't think anyone else could make him feel like this. Even as he was hard, and slightly uncomfortable in his pants, he felt like he was floating, like a cloud soaking in the sunlight and warmth of the world. 

He mouthed at Jon's shoulder before pushing away. Jon looked at him, and he reached for Damian's belt, but Damian caught his hand. He kissed it and smiled. "You'd get in trouble if we got caught." Jon's eyes narrowed at him as Damian sunk into his chair and grabbed the book he'd been reading. He focused on the pages and not the heat in his belly as it slowly cooled. 

He knew that his reasoning didn't make sense to Jon. But it did to him. If he got caught with his hands in Jon's pants then his father would just give him a lecture on being inappropriate and that their bond was something to be honored. That there were others for that. But if Jon was the one, if they were caught and for any reason it looked like Jon might want it just as much as Damian, then maybe... Maybe they'd be separated. He had nightmares of Clark's steady gaze, arms crossed over his chest, as he told Damian that he didn't deserve Jon. That he'd never see him again. 

Jon threw a few dirty shirts into a pile in the corner and moved around the room. Damian watched him out of the corner of his eyes as he read. He caught himself brushing the petals of the flowers sitting on the table next to him. When Jon saw the action his anger deflated and he settled in a chair next to him. He met Jon's eyes and hoped that he could see the apology in them. He wondered if they'd ever be able to read each other like their fathers did. 

He was summoned a few hours later. Clark dismissed Jon and promised to keep an eye on Damian for him. He felt Jon's eyes on his back as he walked down the hall. 

-

The stars sparkled overhead. He stared at them and wondered if they truly knew his future. If he asked them maybe he could change the story they'd crafted. Maybe he wouldn't have been born a prince. Maybe he'd could have been a commoner and maybe then he could be Jon's without the weight of a kingdom telling him that it was wrong. 

"Someone could attack you." 

"That is why I brought the dagger," he said, twirling it above him before setting it down in the grass. 

Jon sank down next to him. They were quiet for a while as they looked up at the stars. 

"Another old alliance looking to help bolster their stand against Azerath while providing us with riches and a strong heir." 

Jon didn't say anything. 

"The princess is 10 years older than me." He looked to Jon. "She had been promised to--" He swallowed. "--our kingdom before when she was a child. Their mother passed a few years ago and the Queen, her sister, never forced her to marry another. But it looks like that time has ended."

"It could be worse," Jon said finally.

"Oh yeah? How?" 

"I do not know. But it could be." 

"Come here," Damian whispered. Jon rolled onto his side and shifted closer. He looked up at him, the stars in the sky behind him, and wondered if he'd ever stop wanting him. He closed his eyes and thought _I love you._ Jon kissed him, and he could almost pretend they could have this. Jon settled against his chest, his lips were numb and that same sunshine feeling buzzed under his skin as he ran a hand through Jon's curls and thanked the stars for at least letting him have Jon for this long. 

-

Queen Komand'r and his father were talking. The Queen had looked at her sister and shooed her toward the gardens. Koriand'r looked like she wanted to go anywhere else. Damian took her hand and looped it through his arm and offered her a tour of the castle. He knew that she'd been there before and had probably been shown everything then, but gave her a tour anyway. She looked as unhappy with the prospect of their possible marriage as he was. 

"That corridor leads to the-" he stopped. It didn't lead anywhere anymore. "Sorry. Um, this corridor leads to the library." She squeezed his arm as they walked down the hall. 

"I remember my Prince jumping from the railing and swinging on the chandelier like it was a tree branch," she said as they stepped into the room. No one ever talked about his brother. Even after all this time the pain in the King's eyes was still too great. "Kon's shouts for him to get down brought half of the kingdom running in, swords drawn," she said with a giggle. "I miss them both dearly." 

"You were betrothed from birth?" he asked like he hadn't read everything he could about the brother he'd never met. 

She nodded. "My kingdom was once a powerful state. Strength of will and magic combined into one. We fought alongside your father in the great war, but that was before Azerath invaded my home, before the loss of my Prince. We have managed to keep them out of our land, and the Queen and I have done everything we can to return our kingdom to its former status." 

They walked around and he stopped by his room. He was surprised to see Jon sitting in his window sill with his eyes closed as the breeze caught the tips of his hair. He jolted and for a moment, Damian thought he might launch himself from the window, but instead he straightened to his full height and smiled at the princess. He doubted she'd notice how fake it was. 

"Your Majesties," Jon said with a bow of his head. 

"Oh, you do not have to do that. I once walked in on your brothers swearing at each other. Kon called him a pigeon toed frog licker and I do not think I had ever heard Dick laugh so loud." Koriand'r walked around the room. She touched a cloak pin that he knew had belonged to his brother. Her eyes lit up when she saw the flowers. 

"So beautiful," she said. "Who gave them to you? Such a curious… _breed_." She reached out to touch them and Damian slapped her hand. He blinked, not sure why he'd done it, but he'd been suddenly overcome with the wrongness of her touching something of Jon's. 

"I apologize. They are very delicate. Perhaps we should check on the talks." The Princess looked once more at the flowers before hooking her wrist on Damian's offered elbow. He glanced back at Jon who was staring at the flowers. 

Jon stood perfectly still as he watched them walk back down the hall, a single bead of sweat rolling from his temple down to his chin. He wiped at it with the back of his hand and turned back to the flowers, his heart racing. 

She knew. That much was obvious. And she owed absolutely nothing to Jon, meaning that at any moment she could tell Damian and that would be it. Jon would be killed or sent away. Maybe being killed would be better at that point. He let his thumb trace over a petal and wash the anxiety off of him until he could think clearly enough to calm himself. The Princess may owe nothing to Jon, but there was an unspoken code amongst magic wielders. Regardless of his station, surely she would not tell Damian what she suspected.

Right?

He followed them for the rest of the day, never close enough to be noticed but never far enough that he couldn't see Damian's face. He was convinced that if she said something he would know immediately by his look. Whether he was forgiven or condemned. So Jon watched. And he waited. But nothing happened, and eventually the court opened again and Jon knew that he should go find his father. 

His father was leaning against the wall next to the tall double doors as nobles on the council and from the visiting country walked out of the room, stretching their legs before going back to negotiations. He smiled when he saw Jon enter and waved him over. He tried to return the expression but his heart felt heavy and when he settled himself next to his father, who was watching Bruce talk quietly with the Princess' sister, he felt worse. He tried to be as expressionless as possible knowing that his father was watching him as he asked, "How are the negotiations?" 

Clark shrugged and looked back to Bruce, examining him. "Not as well as either side has hoped," he admitted. "It looks as if Damian may have escaped another arranged marriage." He sighed and Jon tried to stifle his smile by brushing his hair back. It didn't work. "You could stand not to look so happy about it," he teased with a nudge to his side. 

"I am not," Jon assured him, but it must have been unconvincing because Clark gave him a scolding look. 

"Sooner or later we will need an alliance. And regardless of the bonds you have and how unhappy it makes you, it will be your job to get him down that aisle." His father pat his leg, completely unknowing to the rock he'd dropped in his son's chest. "Head home and tell your mother I will be out late tonight. I do not want to cause her worry. And give her this?" He asked, holding out an empty vial that Jon knew would be filled with a spoken message if he were to open it. 

He nodded and took the small container from his father, pushing up to his feet to walk back out of the courtroom. He had been planning on making a beeline for the entrance hall, but found Damian and the Princess outside the doors. Damian's eyes lit up when he saw him and Jon knew that she hadn't told him anything. He frowned. Why? 

"Jon," Damian said his name like it was a relief. "Would you join us? The Princess and I were considering sitting in on the last bit of court."

He forced a smile and looked anywhere but at the two of them and what a handsome pair they made. "If I could," he shook his head, hoping that he sounded wistful. "My father is sending me home, he seems to think there are more useful ways for me to spend my day besides waiting around for you to be free." 

"What if I _ordered_ you?" Damian asked, a little roughness to his voice as he raised an eyebrow at him. He didn't like to be denied, particularly by Jon. 

Jon kept his face as blank as he could. " _Is_ that an order?" He asked, waiting. But Damian just scowled and tutted at him before storming into the court. Jon turned his attention to the Princess and bowed. "Your Majesty," he said as farewell, but before he could turn she touched his arm. 

"May I escort you to the entrance?" She asked knowing full well he could not refuse her. So he waited until she fell into step at his side. They walked in silence for a few minutes and Jon wondered if Damian would even care that she was gone or if he would just be relieved. He thought about making small talk but the weight of what she might know of him sat too heavily on his shoulders for him to get anything out. 

Eventually she broke the silence for him. "I was friends with your brother," she said after a moment and paused. "We shared a… _culture_ that is not viewed easily in Gotham." Jon stopped and looked around them but no guards had followed. He frowned at the Princess and she nodded. "I know your families are tied," she whispered, taking his hand. "But the Waynes will never change. They have made it their purpose to stamp out our magics for years-- and if they find out-"

"Damian is not like that," Jon said too quickly and she looked at him so sadly that he felt the air fall out of him. Her words branded doubt into his mind whether he wanted it there or not. She pressed something into Jon's palm. 

"I hope you are right," she muttered and then her eyes got hard and determined. "But my Prince was the kindest man I have ever known. So kind he could not harm a living soul. Your brother thought the same, that he was the one person in all of this that would understand him. But when it came down to it, Dick was important. Konner was expendable, and he had to take away his memories to save his own life." She squeezed his hand around what she had placed there and let him go. "I made that for my Prince many years ago. Let it protect you in the dark," she told him and headed back to the court without a backward glance at the boy staring at the sun charm that was pulsing energy through his palm. 

-

His mother was kneading dough when he made it back to the outskirts of town. Any relief he had gotten from his father assuring him the negotiations would fall apart were completely gone. His mother smiled at him but seemed to get a sense of his mood. She took the vial from his father and ushered him to lay down so she could make him a cup of soothing tea. 

Jon held the charm above him as he lay in his bed, studying the carefully bent copper rod that the princess had placed her protection into. She had never gotten to give it to her Prince. He wondered what might have happened had he had it when… 

He closed his fist around it and turned onto his side staring out of the window at the sun bathed grounds. The light was fading fast and he knew that soon Damian would be expecting him to come back and fill him in on everything that had happened that day. He sat up with a sigh as his mother entered with a steaming brew. 

"Something bothering you?" She asked as she sat next to him. "You seem a little stormy up here," she said poking his forehead. 

Jon tied the charm onto his neck and shook off her worry. "No storms, Ma," he promised. "Just getting ready to head back."

-

Damian was staring at the space next to the window when Jon knocked, almost falling back when a vine snapped under his foot. Damian yanked open the window and pulled him in by the neck of his shirt. "You took forever," he complained into his lips. 

"It is a long climb," Jon breathed and walked Damian back to his bed. He pushed him down, taking a minute to look over him, his lips swollen from Jon's kiss and hair mussed up by his hands. He was ripe for the picking and so, so very beautiful that it was almost enough for Jon to forget that he had spent the entire day with his possible future bride. Every part of him wanted to forget about it, cast it aside and live in the night that was theirs. But instead he climbed onto him, taking his time with the ties of Damian's shirt as he asked him, "Was an agreement made?"

Damian shook his head and let his eyes fall shut. "In the end, there was no longer anything they could offer us to help. But the alliance will be kept regardless." He sighed in contentment as Jon kissed up his neck. 

"You seem relieved," Jon mumbled. 

Damian pushed him up and fixed him with a look. "Are you not?" He demanded. Jon shrugged and Damian frowned at him. "What is it?" He asked him, voice softer than usual as he brushed the hair out of Jon's face.

Jon sat back and looked down at him, unable to meet his eyes as heat filled his face. "She was beautiful."

"And so are you," Damian told him. 

"And kind."

"As _you_ are kind."

"And she is a Princess," Jon said, covering Damian's mouth with his hand to keep him from talking. "Maybe it is not her, and maybe it is not _this_ time. But one day, there will be the right alliance, the right treaty. And one day a Princess is going to take you away from me." 

"That day is not today," Damian replied. Part of him, most of him if Damian was being honest, wanted to promise Jon that it would never happen. He wanted to swear that they would always be together and maybe they would. But they could not be like this forever. He would be wed to another, as would Jon. Their lines must continue and the sacred bond must be kept. They would have heirs and their heirs would be as close as brothers. 

"Do you think our fathers ever..?" he asked after a few seconds. Jon frowned at him. He motioned between them where Jon was still sat astride him and Damian's shirt was shoved free. 

"Ew. Why would you ask that?" Jon whined and dropped down next to him, finally giving in to the sudden chill of the mood in the room. Damian had known as soon as Jon asked if there had been an agreement that they wouldn't be continuing. 

"Do you watch them?" 

"No. I do my job, I watch for people that are trying to kill you-- not ones that would throw themselves in front of an attack." 

"Why do you think that is? Clark has no bond to me. I heard the servants one day and they said he never interacted with my brother like he does with me." 

"Maybe he feels guilty," Jon offered, his voice flat. 

"Eighteen years is a long time to be alone."

"He is not alone. He has my mother." 

"I was talking about _my_ father."

"Oh.” Jon paused for a moment considering that. “Well my point still stands. My father would never cheat on my mother." 

"Not even to honor his duty? If you had a wife right now would you deny me? Could you deny your King?" 

"I could. My father could. You know this. That is the purpose of the bond." 

He sighed. "They were talking about me again without actually saying any words. I hate it. The flick of a finger and the twitch of an eyebrow and I suddenly am no longer getting married to a Princess that has been promised to our kingdom for her entire life." 

"Flick of a finger?" Jon asked. 

"Your father moves his finger and my father reacts as though he's spoken aloud. I know you have seen this." 

"You are imagining things," Jon replied and traced his hand up his ribs. 

"Look for it," he said but lost interest in his sentence as Jon's mouth joined his hand on his skin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does it still count as the Summer of Super if we are posting through January??-- Well, whatever, it's August now so welcome children to the Summer of Super! 
> 
> DNA and myself have been working on this story since last May, and we are SO INCREDIBLY HAPPY to finally be sharing it with you guys. This story is has been in the background of everything we have been doing for over a year and honestly if feels super surreal to finally be sharing it with you guys. All of this stemmed from the first Jon and Damian story we ever tried to write that ended up a total firey disaster. It was originally supposed to be a modern take on arranged marriages and two princes on the run-- and it turned into... whatever this is. But we really hope that you enjoy it! 
> 
> In case you have not guessed, this fic is infact named after Post Malone's song [_Sunflower_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ApXoWvfEYVU). It just felt right, and as we continue to through the story, you'll see that Sunflowers are kind of a reoccurring theme. I could listen to this song on repeat all day, sometimes I do, but most of the time I look up different covers like [_this_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XuX2VmdVDR8) on by Christopher and Alex Farley. I'm currently working on a playlist for this fic, so keep your eyes open for that spotify link soon! 
> 
> Anyway, hello and we are glad to be back. If you like this fic please force it on your friends. I even made a cute little Twitter pic so all you have to do it share if you love it! And don't forget to check out our other Super Son's stories, [_The Rest of My Days_](http://www.archiveofourown.org/works/15695988) and [_Before I Met You_](http://www.archiveofourown.org/works/19875610). We'll see you next week<3


	2. Chapter 2

When Damian woke to the bell ringing to announce the day, he was wrapped in a rich warmth. Slowly his brain woke up and he realized that it was Jon wrapped around him. Jon holding him against his bare chest because he'd fallen asleep instead of climbing back out the window. Jon who he was shaking awake while he scrambled to get dressed. He suddenly wanted out of the castle. Out of this cold room where he wasn't allowed to bask in the warmth of the boy he loved. 

"We are going out today," he announced tossing Jon's trousers at him. 

Jon caught them across his face as he blinked the last vestiges of sleep from his mind. "Where are we going?" 

"Away from here. To the lake. To that row of old willows you have been talking about for months. Or the old fort. Anywhere." 

"I will tell my father," Jon said buttoning his pants. 

"No," Damian told him curtly and then took Jon’s hand in his own. "Just let us go. Just us for a day." Jon hesitated. They hadn't snuck out since they were children. "Please." Jon's eyes softened and he nodded. 

It didn't take long for them to get out of the castle. They'd traveled the halls for their entire lives learning every nook and every squeaking board. Jon led him through the city surrounds with his hand clenched tight in his own. It wasn't until they had reached the woods that his grip loosened. 

Damian felt himself relax with each step they put between the castle and themselves. He could feel the tension in Jon though. He didn't like it when Damian left the castle grounds. He understood why. The last time he'd left, a few years ago to go on a hunt with his father, they had been attacked and Damian had been taken to the ground by a spear through his shoulder. His father had killed the assassin with a single swing of his sword. He could still feel the splash of blood on his face and the fire raging outward from the single point. There were nights that he woke gasping as he smelled nothing but blood. Jon had been the first one to reach him. His eyes wide and full of fear as he looked at Damian. He remembered smiling and touching Jon's cheek when everything had started to fade. It was that moment that he had realized that he loved Jon more than he ever should have allowed. He had been sure that he was dying and his only thought had been that Jon shouldn't look so sad. 

The doctor's had been amazed he survived. The weeks spent in the infirmary were some of the worst of his life. Clark had stood watch over him, face stiff and eyes too angry all the time. And it wasn't until the wound had healed into a jagged scar that he saw Jon again. Jon had been distant after that, he had always been around, but he didn't joke and play like they used to. 

He ran his hand on his shirt over the scar. It had been the first time Jon saw the scar that had brought them together. Damian been changing after a sparring match. He was lecturing Jon about holding back and changing into a clean shirt when he had felt fingers brush across the sensitive skin. Jon had touched and stared, eyes too full of emotion. When they had met Damian had closed the distance between them and they kissed, sloppy and rushed. Jon still kissed the scar with reverence whenever he got the chance. 

"Willows or the fort?" Damian asked. Jon jolted and then looked at him. "It will be okay. You can relax. You know I can protect myself now." He rubbed his thumb over the back of Jon's hand. Jon slowly relaxed. 

"The fort. You will not like the willows." 

"They are trees, what would I not like about them?" 

"They are trees. Just trees. You would be bored." 

He bit back the sentiment that rushed forward and squeezed Jon's hand. "We can go to the willows if that is what you wish." 

"No. Let us go to the fort. We have not gone in such a long time." 

The fort was barely more than ruins. It had once been the stronghold of his family's land. He had loved it as a child, still loved it now as he stepped through the one standing archway into the fort. He remembered running through and climbing over the stones with Jon laughing behind him. Now they walked slowly. He chuckled when he saw a shakily carved D in one of the stones. Jon had barely touched the stone to carve his name when their father's found them. He'd gotten a lecture on respecting history for their entire ride back to the castle. 

He climbed up onto what was left of the tower and settled against the tree that grew beside it. Jon frowned up at him from the ground. 

"You could come up here," he offered with an outstretched hand. Jon shook his head. 

"That thing is going to crumble any second. Someone has to be smart so that they can carry the other back to the castle."

"What if we did not go back?" he asked as he looked out into the woods. 

"Damian, we have to go back." 

"Do we? I do not want this life. I do not want to be King if it means that I will lose you." He continued before Jon could say anything. "Do I have to give up my own happiness for that of my people?" 

He heard the scrape of a rock shifting and Jon settled next to him. "We used to pretend that this was our castle. We fought battles and won them all. Then we celebrated with all of our friends and they praised their King. You were always so happy when it was your turn to be the King."

"I was a _child._ I did not know what it meant to be King," Damian replied sharply. 

"You will be a great King. I know it. Your father knows it as well. He only wants to make your life as easy as it can be when it is your time to rule." 

"He just wants control.” Damian scoffed, glaring out into the dark river that ran to the east of them. “ He wants so badly to keep me alive that he does not realize he is suffocating me. If we go back I am telling him." 

"What?" 

"I am not going to marry some stranger because he says so. I love you. I am not going to lose you just because he-" 

"Damian. You will not lose me."

"You just said last night that they would take me away. And you were right. You were right!” He threw his arms into the air and then brought them down to comb through his hair. “And I cannot.” He took Jon’s hand and looked at him, pushing past the discomfort he saw there to the boy underneath it, the one that he knew felt that same about him. “I want to go to sleep with you. And wake up with you. I do not want to have to hide this. I cannot. Jon please. We do not have to go back. We can go out there. Anywhere." He waved out at the trees. "Please?" 

"We can not," Jon replied. 

"Why not?" he snapped. "Do you want to stand off to the side for the rest of your life? Do you want to watch me marry someone else? Have an heir with someone else? You love me, do you not?” He hadn’t meant for it to be a question, but once it was out he could not take it back. “D-don't you?" He felt himself shake apart as doubt started to creep in. "I know you-- you have to. I-I can't breathe- I can't-" He grabbed his chest as he struggled for air. 

-

"Where have you been?" his father demanded. Damian's head hurt. He rubbed it and shrugged. 

"We went to this grove of willow trees on the edge of the river," Jon supplied. He looked over at Damian. 

He nodded slowly. "Jon has been talking about them for months and it was a beautiful day." The ache in his head eased as he supplied the information. 

"We should have informed you," Jon offered. 

"I am sorry father," he said with a small bow of his head. 

"You both know better than that. Jon, your father has been waiting on your return. You should hurry. He was not happy when he left." 

"Yes, Your Majesty. Sorry." Jon bowed quickly before slipping out the door. As the door shut he heard his quick footsteps fade. 

"I excused your escapes when you were a child, but you know what could have happened out there. Jon is your guard. He is not your friend. 

"He is my _only_ friend," he yelled. "Is Clark not your friend?" 

"That is different."

"Why? Because you are King?" 

"Damian," his father warned. 

"What?" he snapped. 

"Your Majesty. There is a messenger at the gate." They both turned to the boy at the door. He shrunk back, but did not let the door shut. 

"Summon the Kents. Send the guard. It is late," his father ordered and the boy bowed. Damian looked out the window. The sun had almost fully set. His head ached and he steadied himself on his father's desk. "Damian?" his father asked. He shook his head to clear it. 

"I am fine," he reassured him. 

It didn't take long for Clark and Jon to arrive and for them to move to the main throne room. He tried to meet Jon's eyes but he was focused and Damian knew better than to distract him. 

The guard opened the door and escorted a single man in a dark purple cloak through. They stopped halfway through the room and when he moved to step closer they blocked him. He looked put off, but straightened his shoulders and looked across the distance to the throne. Both Jon and Clark had taken steps forward. Everyone knew that wherever that color went devastation followed. The last time that color had breached these walls their entire household had wept.

"Your Majesty. I bring word from the Great King himself." 

"Your message may cost you your life," his father warned. He watched his hand slip down to the knife he kept strapped to his thigh. 

"It was my honor to bring this message, a message of peace, from the Great King." 

"State your so-called message of peace and leave."

The man looked over to Damian and Damian saw Jon and Clark both shift to block him. His father shifted forward. The man looked back at his father. 

"The Great King wishes for long lasting peace between these two great lands. His daughter, our beloved Princess, is of age. Her birthday was just two days ago. It is my King's humble wish that a true peace accord might be reached with a bond of the heart." 

"You have proof of this?" Bruce asked standing. Clark stepped back and the king walked down the steps. He stared at his father's back. A marriage to the spawn of the devil. He could not really be considering this. He watched as his father returned and sat down as he read the scroll the messenger had handed him. 

"Tell your king that the message has been received. He will have his answer within the week." 

"No," Jon whispered. He saw him look up at Clark, silently pleading with his father. There was the faintest shake of his head, a reminder for Jon to stay silent. 

Damian sat next to his father as the guard escorted the man out of the room. He stared at a tear in his pants. This was it. This was not a kingdom with soldiers, or goods to offer, this wasn't a kingdom with land or trade routes. This was the kingdom that had stolen his father's family from him. The kingdom that he had fought for most of his life against. The kingdom that he had worked for all of Damian's life to find peace with. This was something that he would not be able to deny. This girl would be his bride. He stood, all eyes jumped to him. 

"Inform me when my future bride will be arriving," he said. He knew when he had lost. He turned to leave and heard Jon step to follow. "Stay," he ordered. Jon froze. He could not look at him as he left. 

Jon watched Damian walking away from him, each step pounding the nail further into the coffin that encased his heart. Of course he knew that this would happen. He had always known. For all the years that he had loved him, Jon had known that he could not keep Damian, and that he could not let Damian have him. He knew that, and yet he had broken the rules anyway. He had chosen to hope against hope, because if anyone could beat out the odds, Jon was sure that it would be his Prince. Because he _loved_ Jon. He gripped at his chest as he remembered his choked question, the panic of the world crumbling around him as he begged Jon to run away with him. 

_You love me, don't you?_

Of course he did. But it was too dangerous to let the wind carry that truth to unwanted ears. So Jon took it away. 

The heavy hand on his shoulder pulled Jon out of his trance and back to his father who seemed to be watching Damian too. He looked tired, and they had yet to have a chance to talk about him running off with Damian. He didn't want to have that talk. He felt just as tired as his father looked after having used so much energy to gently pluck the memories or what had happened that afternoon out of Damian's head. It would be so easy for his Dad to ask him what he had done and for Jon to tell him everything. About their day and the ruins, about the night before and the charm that the Princess had given him. About all of the times that he had stolen Damian's love and pushed it back into him so that it was less real and he was less vulnerable for it. Because even though Jon wanted those moments, he knew that he could not keep them. Not if he wanted Damian to be safe. 

"We shall talk in the morning," Clark told the King, squeezing his son's arm in reassurance. "Lois has been restless about this one." He ruffled Jon's hair. "Let me ease her mind." 

"Of course." Bruce sighed with a frown, not looking his father in the eye. "In the morning then," he said wistfully and turned out of the throne room to make his way to his chambers. 

His father was silent as they made their way out of the castle and across the grounds, through the sleeping village to the border where their house sat. Jon said nothing. He kept waiting for his father to tell him how irresponsible and childish he had been today. How he needed to grow up and realize that Damian's happiness was not his top priority and their friendship would have to evolve to fit the needs of the realm. He had heard this all before, so many times that they all seemed to blend together into a singular unending speech. But his father didn't say any of that. 

Instead he stopped at the edge of the sunflower patch, letting one of his giant hands trace over the delicate petals that his mother had whispered such loving words into. Jon stopped and watched him waiting for the rock to fall, but when he spoke, Clark spoke to the flowers. 

"I know it is hard," he said so softly that Jon almost missed it. "It was hard for me when Bruce married too. But obligation is more important than… desire." 

Jon felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the sky staring in disbelief at his father. So he knew. He knew about everything and he had let it happen anyway. 

"It is impossible for Damian to hide the feelings he has for you." Clark frowned at him sadly. "There is nothing shameful in a great capacity for love,' he assured him softly like he was preparing for a great blow. "But he is a King and he must create heirs. And we…" He sighed and put his heavy hand back on Jon's shoulder and he felt himself tilt feeling too weak to hold it up. "We have a gift that we must continue to pass. We owe it to our people to breed and create and teach. You are so young still, and yet almost a man. I would do anything to save you from this." Clark squeezed his shoulder and offered him a small smile. "Sometimes you get lucky though." He told him and nodded toward the house where the smell of his mother's cooking was drifting out of the windows, floating dreamily and inviting across the wind. Jon looked at his father, at how happy he seemed after everything he just said and thought maybe he was right. Maybe this was just the way things had to be. Didn't Jon know that? 

He followed his father up the walk thinking about the new treaty that was about to be made and all the good it would do for the kingdom. He hoped that he wouldn't be expected to stand next to Damian at the wedding. 

-

He took his time getting dressed the next morning, the weight of the day before feeling heavier than ever. He didn't want to go to the castle. He knew exactly what would happen when he got there. Damian would be angry and spend the day reading and ignoring Jon. Jon would stand around waiting for Damian to give him an order or acknowledge him. Damian would get mad that Jon wasn't saying anything and Jon would tell him he wasn't speaking either. And then they would fight. 

The last fight they had lasted for an entire week when Jon went away with his mother to the Hidden City to help her with a birth. It was a hard labor and they ended up being gone for days. And when Jon came back, he could not tell Damian where he had been. He had been furious, which of course Jon knew he would be. If Damian had disappeared for days and not told Jon where he was, Jon would have been furious. But instead he stayed quiet, punishing Jon in silence that left him wanting. He had never felt so alone then, and now… well he didn't want to dwell on it. 

He finished getting dressed and helped his mother with her morning spells. Then he put on his coat and made his way to the place he least wanted to be and towards the person he most wanted to see. It was worse than he thought. 

Damian looked up at him when he walked in but said nothing, the only sign of him noticing Jon's existence was him flipping his page a little rougher. Jon walked over to the window and checked on the flowers, his spell still radiating in them, before he turned to watch Damian study. He thought about what his father had said the night before, about obligation and desire, and tried to weigh them. On one hand, he knew that his duty was to the kingdom and he was part of a long line of men that had all played the same role. One the other hand, there was Damian. Damian who defied tradition. Damian who dared to talk back to the men who tried to keep him small. Damian who was everything, smart and kind and beautiful. Damian who could not be his. 

And no matter how he weighed it, Jon came back to the same thing. He loved him. And no matter the duty or the tradition, Jon loved Damian more than his own life. Guilt surged through him as his thoughts flashed back to the day before when Damian asked him to run away. How he wished they had now. 

Damian was watching him. Jon hopped up onto the window sill and looked back into his eyes wondering what was behind them. "Are we going to talk about it?" He asked after a few minutes of silence had passed. 

Damian chewed on his lip and frowned at him. "No," he told Jon and looked back at his book. 

Jon waited. Damian didn't turn the page as he stared at the same spot in the middle of it. Jon cleared his throat, "You seem like you _want_ to talk about it."

Damian glared at the book. "Well I don't," he said defiantly. 

Jon waited another minute of him not turning the page. "Are you sure?"

Damian slammed the book shut. "Yes, Jon. I'm positive that I do not want to have a discussion about my impending marriage to an evil sorceress." Jon swallowed trying not to let that sting too much. The _evil_ of magic had been widely spread through the people of Gotham for generations and that wasn't something that would end quickly. " _Especially_ not with you," he added under his breath and rubbed at his face, pushing his hair back. 

He was about to push the issue because, regardless of whether he wanted to, Jon knew that Damian needed to talk about it. But a knock interrupted them and Damian looked exhaustedly at the door as he called for them to come in. A guard stepped in with a quick bow. "Your Majesty, master Kent." He nodded at Jon who nodded back. "The King has requested you in his chambers." 

Damian groaned and stood up. "What does my father want now?" He asked. 

The guard cleared his throat looking uncomfortable. "Actually, sir, he only wanted to see Master Kent."

Jon's heart jumped into his throat but he tried not to let it show as he nodded and stepped forward. The king wanted to see him. Alone. He never wanted to see him alone. Damian grabbed his arm when he moved to follow the guard and Jon forced a smile at him. "I am sure it is nothing," he promised and kissed his forehead before he followed the guards out. 

He felt like a child on his way to the King's rooms, even though he'd never been allowed as a child. In all of his years being in the castle and with Damian, he could not remember a single time that he had been there. Jon tried to push the conversation he'd had with his father out of his mind, assuring himself that he would never tell Bruce what he'd seen. That his love for the Prince was still a secret-- but it wasn't convincing enough to stop his heart from pounding out of his chest. The guard knocked at the door and announced Jon before letting him in. 

The King's chambers were twice the size of Damian's, covered in ornaments from all over the world. When Bruce was younger he had been quite the warrior, leading Gotham's armies to victories in countless countries as his father before him. It was said that was how the Waynes and the Kents first came together. The Waynes out conquering a far off land when they found them and their magic and brought them back. Of course the story had changed to fit the times, but no one really listened or cared about those stories when times had been so dark. 

The King sat at a grand desk in front of the window, a basket of flowers that resembled the ones that Jon had brought Damian sitting at the corner making the worry in Jon's stomach lessen a fraction. He smiled when he saw Jon and waved him further into the room as he finished whatever he was writing and handed it to the guard behind him. He quickly took it and left them alone in the room. 

Jon cleared his throat. "You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?" He asked, barely managing to keep the warble out of his voice as he noticed that his father was not there. 

"I did," Bruce agreed. "I was hoping that we could have a talk, man to man." He motioned to the chair next to the desk for him to sit. Jon walked forward stiffly and sunk into his chair waiting for the blow to come. For Bruce to tell him the very worst, call him an abomination and tell him he could never see Damian again. But when he spoke it was kind, "Your name day is coming soon."

"I, um, yes sir-- it is." He nodded, completely baffled. 

Bruce smiled at him again. "A few more weeks and you will be a man, ready to take on the burden of the kingdom." Jon swallowed and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "On your father's name day, my father, the king at the time, blessed him in the union to your mother," Bruce told him. Jon balled his hand at his side. "I had wed the daughter of a neighboring King and they wanted to insure that our children were born at the same time, to insure the strongest bond. Your father has asked me to do the same."

Jon swallowed again knowing that he was supposed to speak but his throat was so dry. He cleared it. "So I am to be married as well," he said. It was not a question. 

The king nodded. "Your father and I agreed that it is probably for the best. With Damian's engagement coming, an heir will be eminent. We need to ensure the continuation of our houses."

"O-of course," Jon agreed but his heart felt as hard as stone. He listened as the king told him about his bride, how she was the daughter of a close friend of his and his father's from back in the war. She was apparently beautiful and apparently smart. But the more that Jon heard the more he wanted to go back to Damian and take him back to the fort so the day before could happen all over again. And this time when he asked him to run, Jon would say yes. 

Instead he left the king's chambers with his shoulders tight and allowed his feet to take him back to Damian's rooms on their own. Damian was pacing when he opened the door looking relieved to see him. He rushed over to push the door shut behind him and pulled Jon further into the room before he demanded, "What did he want?"

Jon thought about telling him. He knew that he should, that it was the right thing. But in the end, his panic stilled his throat and he shrugged. "Just checking on you," he lied. "He was worried after last night."

Damian frowned but seemed annoyed enough that he accepted it and this set him off in the rant that Jon had known he needed to get out before he left. Allowing Jon a moment to gather the idea of the paths that were about to take them apart. 

Jon didn't argue back with him and it only made him angrier. Damian wanted them to fight, to argue, to be unhappy in this together. But the louder his voice got, the quieter Jon became until they were both standing in silence. Damian felt his chest heaving and growled as he stormed out of his room. If Jon wasn't going to fight him he was going to find someone that would. He ignored Jon's footsteps behind him, normally he took comfort in knowing Jon was close by. 

"Your Highness," one of the guards said as he scrambled to his feet. He felt bad for interrupting them. They were all spread out in varying levels of relaxation. 

"I require a sparring partner." 

All of the men's eyes flitted to where Jon was standing behind him. It was rare that his partner was someone other than Jon. He cleared his throat and one of the men stood. He tilted his head in a thank you and walked over to the weapons rack. He hesitated before selecting the staff. It was the only weapon on the rack that required contact. 

"Damian," Jon hissed. 

He looked at him and tossed the staff to the guard before picking up his own. "Now you speak?" he asked as he stepped past. He saw Jon's anger spark and turned to focus on his opponent. 

He had been sparring for his entire life. His father had insisted on it, and he enjoyed it. It wasn't until he almost died that the men started to take it seriously. He had had no idea that they had been taking it easy on him. They didn't anymore. He caught a hard strike to his side. 

"Too high, sire," the guard admonished. He saw the twinkle of amusement and shifted his stance. He managed to block the next few strikes before one slipped through and he caught the end to his sternum. He stumbled back, but managed to block the immediate strike that followed. 

"Good, sire," one of the men called from the side. He jabbed wildly to clear space as he caught his breath. Another flurry of clattering sticks ended with his first strike. He followed it up with another two before stepping back to avoid a swipe at his legs. 

He could feel the energy of the men around him as they watched. He was never going to be the warrior King that his father had been. Times were too different. Their boundaries too secure. Their enemy soon to be an eternal ally.

"Focus," the guard chided lightly, tapping him on the jaw with the end of the staff. He pushed the staff away. His anger had faded some with the strikes of the staff and the feel of hits as they vibrated up his arms. He felt himself relaxing and enjoying the match. He saw one of the guards shift to the side and grinned. He dropped his guard as his opponent advanced and slid under his attack before grabbing his arm and rolling him over. He heard the thud of his opponent as he hit the dirt and straightened. The men clamored to their feet. He offered a hand up and got a smile and a clap on the shoulder as he rose. "You have been holding out on us."

"Where did you learn that?" the men asked, glancing toward Jon who was frowning at them from his place by the entryway. 

"Colin," he answered and watched the men gather around their comrade. 

"Who wants to try their luck next?" he asked. 

He left the training grounds with a slight limp, that his father was going to be unhappy about, and the smiles of his men. Jon followed a few paces behind him. 

"You should be more careful," Jon finally said as his bedroom door shut behind them. He pushed up Damian's shirt and touched a sore spot on his ribs. The bruise was already forming. He gave in as Jon prodded and poked all of the sore spots. He knew that denying him would only make him more insistent. "Why do you-- I do not understand why you insist on fighting them." 

"They are my men. But I did not earn them as my father did. I did not lead them to victory. I did not overcome impossible odds. I was simply born. I am young and have been protected my entire life. They have taught me how to fight, how to survive. They are my men but I am their Prince because they have chosen so." 

Jon looked at him. "I thought you just did it because you are evil and like watching me worry." 

"That is an added bonus," he added with a smirk. "Help me out of my shirt? My shoulder," he gave Jon a pathetic look as he shifted his shoulder. 

Jon sighed like it was some terrible burden, but helped him out of his shirt. He read while his bath was drawn and Jon stared out the window. He had something on his mind, something he was hiding, but Damian let it go. Jon gave so much to Damian, the least he could do was let him keep his secrets. Even if he sometimes forgot his promise to himself. He sighed as he eased into the bath. His sore muscles relaxed in the warmth. 

-

The next morning he was summoned to his father's office. He stopped in the doorway and watched his father touch the petals of his sunflower as he gazed out the window. He had caught himself doing the same too many times while thinking about Jon and he wondered again if maybe they weren't the only ones to cross the line. Maybe the line was meant to be crossed. Damian frowned. He was angry with his father. Damian squared his shoulders and pushed the door open the rest of the way. 

"You wished to speak with me, Your Majesty." He saw the title strike his father like a physical blow and got little pleasure from it. It sat like a sour taste in his mouth. 

His father pulled one of the flowers from the basket and walked around the table. He offered it to Damian quietly. Damian stared at the flower and that same feeling from before, when Koriand'r had tried to touch the flowers in his room, filled him. Damian lifted his hand, his father's eyes narrowed, and he could not make himself take the flower. After a few seconds of him standing there with the flower inches from Damian's hand he pulled it back and lifted it to his face. 

"I have lived a long life. There are things that I have done that I am not proud of. People that I have hurt, that did not deserve it." He looked away from the flower and to Damian. "But it was all for what I believed was the best for our people. I have been plagued with doubts of this treaty." His father plucked off a petal of the flower. Damian stared at him. 

"I doubt the peace it promises." Another petal. "I doubt that it will not bring discord and unrest among the people." Another petal. "I doubt the true intentions of the King that proposes it." Another petal. "I doubt..." He watched his father hold the petal between his fingers as it shriveled. He plucked another and another until there was just one left. 

"I wished a life better than the one I had for you." The door opened and he looked over his shoulder to see Clark bracing himself on the doorway as he caught his breath. Clark's eyes locked on the flower in his father's hand then darted to Damian. The last petal was plucked and it shriveled as it fell to the ground. 

"The treaty has been signed. Magic comes to Gotham."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> Let us know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

The Princess stood behind the messenger. She had a single guard next to her. Damian watched the trio as the messenger announced their arrival. He couldn't see her face, hidden by the dark purple cloak of the Azerathi royal family. He felt a nudge and stood. Guards lined the walkway this time, their hands on their hilts as they watched Damian walk down the few steps and across the room. He knew everyone's eyes were on him. He stopped a few feet in front of the messenger who stepped aside. He tipped his head, "Your Highness, welcome." 

The Princess stepped forward and pulled her cloak down as she did. He felt the tension rise in the room. She tilted her head as he had and repeated his greeting. When she stood he took in her pale skin and soft features. She was not what he had expected as the daughter of a demon. 

"Damian," Clark barked and he stepped back a few paces. It was as Clark's hand touched his arm that he noticed the red gem in the middle of her forehead. It sparkled as the light caught it. The Princess's guard had moved to intercept Clark. As he moved his face shifted, fangs dropping down and hair rising along his skin. He heard the shiver of horror race around the room. _A shapeshifter._

Clark alone did not flinch as he stared down the face of the monster. "My apologies. That gem." Clark's voice was calm, like he was talking to a vendor at a market and not a sorceress. 

Jon pulled Damian back and when he looked up at his father he was nodding for him to take his seat. Jon stood directly in front of Damian when he sat. He gripped his seat. He hated this, constantly being treated like a child. He listened to the Princess's flat voice as she explained that the gem was a protective amulet. After a few moments Clark returned to the throne and kneeled at his father's side. He had spoken out of turn and appearances had to be maintained. 

He didn't get to talk with the Princess that day, or the next. He had started to relax, maybe he wouldn't have to talk to her at all, when a loud knock broke the silence of his room. Jon was on his feet at once and opened the door. It was the princess' guard, a scowl was on his face as he reported that the Princess requested an audience with the Prince. He never looked at Damian and didn't wait for an answer, he simply stated the request, turned, and headed back down the hall. 

The Princess was sitting in the shade of the castle reading when he found her. The guard had been leaning against the castle wall beside her, but stepped forward when he heard their approach. 

"Your Highness," he said and tilted his head and she did the same. "May I sit?" 

"Yes," she replied. She set her book on the grass beside her. He glanced up at Jon and the guard as they stared at each other. "Gar." He saw the instant that her voice reached his ears and he deflated. He sulked a few feet away and Damian shot Jon an amused look and Jon joined him. "I apologize. He is protective." 

"How has your stay been?" he asked, deciding not to reply to her comment. 

"It has been pleasant. The days are longer here." They talked about the weather and the castle. He gave her a history lesson that she truly seemed interested in, and she answered his questions without hesitation. There was a moment when she mentioned the royal family that she flared with an emotion he couldn't identify. She looked at him. 

"This pairing is not disagreeable," she said looking him over. He felt eyes land on him. "I have heard that your first act in this world was to end the life that brought you into it. Mine was as well." She looked over his shoulder. "There must always be a balance in the world. Where there is life, there must be death. Where there is magic, there must be the fist to destroy it." Jon was suddenly there, pulling Damian to his feet. Damian yanked his arm free and apologized with a glare to Jon. "It is fine. I should return to my room. I have spent too much time in the sun." She held her hand out and Gar took it. She offered Damian a small smile as she passed them.

"What?" Damian snapped when they were alone. Jon studied him and silence stretched as it had been doing for the past month. He felt his frustration building and let it out with a heavy breath. "I am trying to make the best of this. Should I not try to be her friend if I must spend the rest of my life with her?" 

"She was talking about magic," Jon said faintly. 

"She is a sorceress."

"She was talking about your mother," Jon added. 

"She did not lie." 

Jon reacted as he expected him to. The denial quick to his tongue, but bit back suddenly when Jon looked up at the castle. "Let us go back inside." 

When they got back to the room Jon looked pale. He pushed open the door and looked around before he would let Damian inside. Damian grabbed his book and fell onto his bed. He glanced over to Jon when he didn't move away from his desk. Jon was touching the basket of wilted flowers. 

"Jon?" 

"I have to go. I forgot my mother wanted me home for dinner." He watched as Jon grabbed the basket and fled the room. 

This was not good. Jon clutched the basket of dead flowers to his chest as he pushed his way through the castle towards the town. It was more difficult than normal to make his way through the usually echoing walls with the castle. It was now full of visiting soldiers and Gotham's guards, so he had to push his way through. Things cleared up around the throne room which let out into the wider entrance hall that eventually led to the doors. And just when he thought that he would make it out with no interactions he heard his name being called from across the way. He hesitated next to the door. If it had been anyone but the King who had beckoned him he could have kept running and pretended that he had never heard a thing. But Jon _had_ heard him, and he had stopped, and now he had no choice but to double back and see what he required. 

He forced his shoulders to relax and let the basket fall unimportantly to his side like it was not filled with the withered husk of his protection. He turned a pleasant eye to Bruce and made his way over to the King. He smiled at him and nodded deeply. "Your Highness," he greeted and Bruce rolled his eyes, always hating when Jon called him that-- but he couldn't shoo it away in the middle of court. 

"In a rush?" He asked instead, an amused look morphing his features as he took in his scattered appearance. 

Jon felt his face turning red as he fought for a lie. "Well m-my mother just sent for me." He forced out. "The, uh, baker's wife has just gone into labor and she requires a second set of hands." He shrugged innocently and very subtly moved the basket so that it was resting behind his leg. 

"The baker's wife is expecting?" Bruce asked suspiciously, his eyes dropping down to the basket that Jon shoved further behind his legs. 

"I'm not sure she knew." He piped out hating how high his voice sounded but hoping it came out as correct. His mother had known that Mrs. Henderson was expecting months before she had, a lifetime of good bread and decent wages keeping her plump and kind and happy. 

Fortunately, Bruce did not push the issue. "I won't keep you long," he promised, his eyes still locked on the basket, narrowing as they moved back up to Jon's face and his smile dropped. 

And Jon wondered in that second if Bruce knew. If he had known about his father and his family the entire time-- how could he not as bound together as they were? His father had spent nearly his entire life protecting the Waynes, always by Bruce's side. So maybe, somewhere along the way the truth came out. Jon thought back to the way he had looked at his own basket of his mother's flowers. Maybe somewhere along the way Bruce decided that he didn't care. Jon wanted to ask, but Bruce had already shaken off his expression and sunk back into his pleasant face. "There is someone I would like to introduce you to. If you have the time."

"Of course," he said a bit breathlessly, knowing deep down that he could not refuse even if he wanted to. He followed the King through the crowd, watching as people moved instantly out of their path until they reached an ornately dressed, beautiful couple with copper skin. Jon was taken aback at first, blinded by the wonderful colors of their dress to notice the kind smile that the man was offering him as he reached out to take Jon's hand before Bruce had a chance to introduce him. 

"I would know you in the dark," he said, his accent deep and warm. "You look exactly as your father did the last time we met." He shook his hand and his head before looking at Bruce who was grinning now. "The resemblance is uncanny." 

"Wait until you see them side by side," Bruce told him and clapped a hand on Jon's shoulder, giving it a good squeeze. "Your daughter is a very lucky girl," he told the man, and suddenly Jon didn't find their expressions or their words so welcoming. He swallowed hard and had to work to keep a smile as Bruce introduced his future family to him. "Jon, this is Vijay," he nodded to the man who had just released his hand, "and Rani Singh." he nodded to the woman next to him. Her eyes so warm they could almost make him forget how miserable he felt. "Your father and I met Vijay almost twenty five years ago after a hard battle."

Jon nodded feeling like all words had been stolen from him, but also knowing that he needed to speak. He knew about Vijay and his wife, how they had found his father and Bruce in the outskirts of a village far away, both of them battle worn and starving after being separated from their forces. His father had told him that Rani was a very gifted sorceress who used earth's energy to heal them and make them strong before sending them on their way. New magic-- but all he could cling to was the conversation that Bruce had had with him not even a week ago. 

"You're Kiran's parents," he said hoping that his smile looked excited instead of insane and terrified. "Does that mean… is she?" He asked looking around them. 

Rani laughed and shook her head. "Kiran was abroad when we received the invitation from Bruce and your father," she explained. Her voice was as kind as her eyes, and she must have sensed his fear because as she touched his arm he felt a jolt of calm rock through him, the amber gem on her forehead giving off a slight shine that only he seemed to see. "She will be here by your name day," she promised. "And is just as _anxious_ to meet you." She winked and Jon couldn't stop the nervous laugh that pushed out of him. 

"That is, uh," he stepped back out of her grip and was immediately jolted with the anxiety she had pushed out of his mind. He shook his head. "Really… really good," he finished lamely. "My mother has been excited to meet you." He nodded and by the look from all of them, he knew that they knew he was panicking. 

"Speaking of your mother, were you not on your way to assist her?" Bruce asked him, taking pity on him. 

"I was!" Jon agreed, thanking him with his eyes. "Please forgive me for rushing out," he asked them with a bow before he turned on his heel and walked as slow as he could make himself to the door.

-

He watched his parents from the doorway as they moved around each other, cooking and talking about their days like they had the most interesting stories to tell when it was all just random fluff that happened every day. His father laughed when his mom told him about something a man told her in the market and he proceeded to pick at her until she was grinning and waving a ladle at him before they were back to the cooking and the moving all over again. Jon wondered if they had always been like this. If they had always been happy and enjoyed each other's company. He knew that their marriage was arranged just like his would be, and they had never even met each other before their engagement-- surely it wasn't always this easy. Was it? 

Jon walked in when it became too hard to think about and his mother treated him like she hadn't seen him in years. She pulled him down to kiss his cheek and asked him to set the table as she finished up the stew, and then it was the three of them moving together like they had always been meant to be. 

"Did anything interesting happen today?" His mother asked as he pulled utensils out of a basket, glad that his back was turned to her. 

He took a moment to consider lying, but knew that Bruce would tell his father the next day anyway so he shrugged and nodded as he turned around. "Actually yes," he admitted and took a breath to tell them about the Singhs, only to say, "I met the Princess," instead. 

His father's eyes darted up to him instantly but his mother stayed focused on the soup seaming not to think much of it. "I hear she is beautiful," she said dreamily. "And her power is said to be great."

"And terrible," his father added after. 

Lois chided him as she served the soup. "All power has the chance to be terrible and we should not judge a daughter for her father's deeds. Her and Damian will make a very handsome pair." Jon frowned as he watched the stew fall into his bowl, his stomach suddenly turning. "And have you stopped to think that Gotham could use a little more magic? That maybe the King will finally be able to see you for who you truly are and what all you have done for him." 

Jon swallowed when his mother mentioned the King, his mouth feeling dry and his tongue like sandpaper there. "Do you think…" he hesitated and hastily grabbed his spoon so that he would have something to do with his hands as he thought about the wilted flowers. "Do you think it's possible that Bruce already knows?" He asked, aiming for disinterest. 

His father met his eyes for the briefest of moments frowning hard as he gathered his thoughts, but his mother spoke before he got the chance. "Of course not." His mother laughed as she put the pot back down by the fire. "Your father would never risk his family, even if there was a small chance it would be fine." She sat and put her hand over her father's, looking at him with true adoration that Jon wondered if he would ever have.

-

Damian was asleep when Jon knocked at his window, the candles already blown out and the glass painted black in the reflection of the night. He stared at his own pale face as he waited, wondering if he should turn back or keep waiting-- maybe knock again. He was adjusting to do so when the window opened and Damian blinked at him. He looked tired and confused as he helped Jon inside, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. 

"Jon, what are you-?" Jon kissed him before he could get any further than that, feeling the tension melt out of where his hand was pressed into his back until they were both breathless and a little wide eyed. 

"Let me stay with you tonight," he asked him in a whisper. "Please," he added, pressing their foreheads together as he waited for his answer. 

For a moment Jon thought he might tell him no, send him away for being distant and strange, or maybe just because it was too painful to let him stay. But instead Damian put a soft hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer so that he could place the whisper of kisses on eyelids and then his lips. "Always," he told him like it was easy. Like baring his whole soul to Jon was exactly what he lived for and Jon couldn't help but pull him in again wondering just how long he might have this. 

-

Damian had been told not to go anywhere in the castle without Jon. He couldn't leave the castle-- ever. Couldn't speak with anyone from beyond the walls without Jon present, and now they wanted to confine him to his room. So he went to the library by himself simply to spite his father. 

He shoved open the library door in irritation. He knew it was childish to slam doors and throw things, but if they were going to treat him like a child he would act like one. His father had always tutted over his physical outbursts, but it felt good to push the door and let some of his anger go with it. When he'd first left his room he had turned toward the training grounds, but he knew they would escort him back. So the library it had been. He grabbed his favorite book as he climbed up the ladder into the small nook on the second landing that overlooked the courtyard. It was hidden from view and his favorite place to read. If Jon needed him he'd probably look there first. 

It wasn't empty though. He paused with a single knee on the edge. "My apologies," he uttered and moved to climb down. The Princess grabbed his wrist. 

"It is okay. Stay. I'm the one intruding. I knew this belonged to someone." She held up one of Jon's journals. A stack of them were tucked into the corner. When they were little they had made wild stories of their adventures and Jon had written every one down. This was the one place that they had known no one would find them so they'd stayed there. Some days Damian still found himself reading the tales. 

Damian took the journal with a smile as he settled on the edge with his foot hanging over the edge. He'd be spotted, but the space was too small for them to both fit without touching. "Jon's handwriting is atrocious. Our fathers have tried everything they could to improve it, but it always looks like he wrote it with his feet." 

She laughed. "So Jon is the other King?" 

He looked at her then down at the journal. "We were children. We thought we would both be King."

"I liked the story where you fought the cyclops."

He laughed. "I will have you know, getting poked in the eye is very unpleasant. It was my idea to wear the cloak so it would think we were really tall."

"He is not only your guard." His grip tightened on the journal. "He is your friend." 

He nodded, relieved. "My only friend." 

"Gar is my only friend as well." 

"The shapeshifter?" 

She looked at him for a moment. "Yes. It was not his choice. Even in Azarath shapeshifting is forbidden magic. My father took him in when he was very young and for a time he was my only companion. As we grew, he became my closest friend." A smile softened her face as she rubbed a braided strand wrapped around her wrist. "None of the King's guard would come with me. They feared they would be slain like all magic that crosses into your borders. But Gar, who cannot hide what he is, came with me." 

"There is a treaty," he said for a lack of anything else to say. 

"A piece of parchment is no match against the steel of a sword." 

"You are my bride to be. You are protected here." She looked at him and he was reminded of one of his childhood nurses as she wiped mud from his hands and face as she chided him _'foolish, foolish child.'_

"It is not _I_ that needs to be protected." Her eyes darted behind him as the doors opened. 

"You better be in here. Your father is furious," Jon called. Damian shifted and started back down the ladder when Jon reached the top of the stairs. "Are you trying to piss him off? 'Cause it is working. He has started that silent glaring thing he does." 

"No grunting and pointing yet?" he asked. 

Jon scoffed. "No I think you would have to leave the castle for that to start." As they started down the stairs Jon's voice lightened. "You could have told me you were going to read. I would have come with you." 

"I know. I needed some space." He squeezed Jon's hand when hurt flashed across his face. "It is a nice day though. We could go read by the pond." 

-

He floated on his back and watched the clouds wander by. The water felt nice on his skin. He moved his hands and felt it rush by them. 

"Are you sure you are not a water sprite?" Jon asked swimming up to him. He let his eyes fall over to look at him. 

"I am. I replaced the real prince years ago. He is caged beneath this very pond." 

"So funny," Jon said flatly and kicked up so he was floating next to Damian, the water shifted under him. Jon's fingers slid between his beneath the water. 

They floated and stared at the sky. Occasionally Jon would point out a cloud and they'd argue over what it looked like. When the wind started a ripple over the water Jon shivered. Damian dropped below the water and after a few moments Jon did as well. The world was soft and shaded when he opened his eyes. Jon's hair floated around his head. He had his eyes squeezed tight. Damian touched his face and drifted forward, closing the distance and kissing Jon as their breaths leaked out in small bubbles. 

They surfaced seconds apart facing each other. He smiled at Jon before splashing him and swimming for the patch of grass where they'd left their clothes. He pulled himself up and laid back on the grass. The sun warmed his skin as he closed his eyes. Jon settled next to him. He saw him look around before turning on his side, blocking the wind and part of the sun. Damian turned to look at him. There were words on the tip of his tongue as he looked at Jon, skin glistening in the sun, a smile on his face as he gazed back at him. He swallowed them back. He couldn't have those words, but he could have this, this moment and days like this when it felt like it truly was only them in the world. Jon leaned forward and kissed him. He sighed into it as Jon relaxed against him. 

His father frowned at him when he joined him for dinner, still wet from the pond and more at peace than he'd been in the last few months. 

-

Damian found Raven a few more times in the library. She seemed to prefer the solitude that it provided. He'd caught her sitting in the garden like she'd done during their first conversation, but those times were rare. She was reaching for a book when he entered the library, Jon a few steps behind him. Gar was fluttering behind her in his bird form. His screeching echoed through the room. They both turned at their entrance and Gar dropped suddenly, shifting back into his human form as he fell. He looked sheepish for a second. 

"Do you require assistance?" Jon asked. Over the last few weeks Jon had seesawed between wanting nothing to do with the Princess and doting on her. Damian hadn't yet figured out what caused the changes, he doubted that Jon could tell him if he asked. His moods seemed to shift with each passing moment. 

She looked at the book and leaned a little further away from the ladder. Gar's gaze which had been narrowed at Jon darted to the Princess and he stepped forward anticipating the worst. She hooked her finger over the edge and pulled it free. He saw the moment of triumph and the smirk that she shot Gar before dropping the book to him. He caught it and watched her climb down the rungs. 

"He loves her," Jon whispered. Damian looked at the pair. Gar flitted around excitedly talking to Raven. She kept walking as they made their way back to their corner of the room. She hadn't been back up in his nook since that first day as far as he knew. Gar glanced back to them before settling down next to Raven, he shifted and rested his feline head on her leg. Raven brushed her fingers through his fur without looking away from her book. Gar wasn't alone in his affection. 

"Go find that history book that has been lying to you." Jon scoffed but headed up the stairs. 

The day passed and Jon eventually bored of his book and went to bother Gar. Damian paid them little attention. He finished his novel and found one of the histories his father had been talking about a few days before and set it on one of the tables on the top level of the library. Half the book later he yawned, his and Jon's late night weighed on him. He could still hear Jon and Gar bickering the floor below. He couldn't hear all that they were saying, but he didn't think that he wanted to. He reached for the corner of the page. He didn't remember anything he'd just read. As his fingers grazed the page cold fingers wrapped around his wrist. He looked up at Raven, she frowned and her grip tightened. He winced, and pulled at his arm, but he couldn't pull away. 

" _Look for snakes in the field. Danger lurks in the shadow. It hides from the sun. It hides. It waits._ " She stared at him, her eyes locked on his as her grip tightened. She looked like she was in pain, desperate for him to understand. The gem on her head glowed and her hand grew hot. " _He comes_ ," she whispered and the gem went dark. 

"Damian?!" Jon called, his voice loud and concerned. He pulled on his arm and she let go. The terrified look on her face was gone, replaced by a bland smile. She brushed her hand across his jaw as she passed. Jon stared, his eyes dark in anger, at her retreating back from his spot at the top of the stairs. 

He rubbed at the red mark around his wrist as Jon walked closer. He glanced behind him, but Raven had already descended the stairs to where Gar was standing. 

"Did she do something to you? Did she say anything?" Jon asked. Jon didn't touch him, but stared at the red mark as it started to fade. 

"To watch for snakes," he answered. 

"Is that all?" Jon pressed. 

"And something about the sun." He saw Jon react to that, but the recognition in his eyes was gone a second later. He wasn't sure if he actually saw it. 

"We should tell our dads." 

"About her grabbing my arm? I am fine. See?" he held up his arm, his skin unmarked. Jon looked like he wanted to argue, but let it go. 

Jon didn't touch him for the rest of the day. 

-

Damian felt restless. He had stalked around his room then sat down and stared at nothing. He paced more but the strange feeling in his chest didn't go away. Jon hadn't been in to see him all morning. Even on the days when he worked with his mother he still stopped by. He was tempted to go to the Kent house and find Jon himself, but instead he went to his father. 

He opened the door and nearly stepped on one of the tiny castles the king used to hold papers. A few steps ahead a bowl of ink sat on its side, a pool of black spreading out beneath it. Neither of the men at the table paid any attention to the mess at their feet. 

His father's hands were balled into fists where they rested with obvious tension on the table. A single piece of parchment sat on the table like he'd been holding it when everything else had crashed to the floor. The most startling was his face twisted in anger. His father had always been quiet in his anger, reserved because that was what a King had to be. But now it showed clearly on his face.

Damian stopped the door from slamming shut and froze as he watched the pair argue. The surprise faded and what they were saying sunk in. 

"You are not listening," Clark growled. He had never seen him angry, and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to again. 

"I have more important things to worry about than a flower."

"Bruce."

"Clark," his father replied flatly. 

"So you are going to act like a child now?" 

"Like you did when you threw your tantrum?" He gestured at the table. 

"You were not listening to me."

"I always listen to you!" Bruce snapped. "I listened to you when you told me that this accursed marriage was the right thing to do. I listened to you when you decided that you were done. I listened to you when you told me that my family would be safe. I _always_ listen to you. But right now I am more worried about the border reports and the marriage of my _son_ to a sorceress." 

"Lois said-"

"I do not care what _that woman_ said," his father spat. 

"We need better protection," Clark continued like his father hadn't spoken. 

"That is what we have soldiers for." 

"You cannot be serious. You know what you face." 

"Do I? Do I know? Have I been told everything or have I been told what is convenient for you? They are flowers. _Flowers die."_

Clark turned to leave, his face still twisted in rage. Damian stood at the door frozen as he stared at the two people in his life who had always been united in everything as they spit venom at each other. He saw Clark's face freeze and then shift with regret. 

"Damian," Clark breathed. 

"I was just looking for-" Damian looked at his father who had slumped into the chair by his table looking defeated. "Has something happened?" 

Clark looked back at the king. "No, Damian. There is nothing to worry about." He smiled and pat his shoulder. "They are just flowers." 

-

They were all dead. 

Jon stood behind his mother, sunk to her knees as though she were grieving a child as she looked out over the patch of wilted sunflowers, completely withered and curled in on themselves with disease. There was a dread clawing up his throat as he fought to stay silent and still behind his mother, cradling a lifeless stalk to her as she rocked herself. He could not disturb her. In all of Jon's life he had never seen the patch die, not in the hardest of winters or the hottest of suns. Not when the fires tore through the village and not even when the rain did not come for three fortnights. The flowers had always survived. Until now. 

He felt rather than heard his father behind him, just as lost for words at the devastation of their crop. He had gone straight to the castle when they woke to the loss and they hadn't heard from him since. He stepped up next to him and looked out at it all as Jon watched him. He looked tired and his jaw was clenched in stress and anger. More than anything Jon wanted to ask him what had happened, but he also knew that it was not his place. That he wasn't allowed to peer in on adult conversation until he was a man and that wasn't for another week yet. So he waited to be addressed. 

"Has she moved?" His father asked finally, too softly for his hard expression. 

"No," Jon muttered back. 

Clark nodded. "Put on some tea," he told him before he stepped forward and kneeled next to his mother, pulling her in so that she was leaning on his shoulder as he muttered into her hair. 

It took an hour for him to get her inside the house and after that half of another to soothe her to sleep, a flower still clutched in her hand. They spent the afternoon clearing the field, plucking every bit of the devastation out of the soil until it was bare again. The emptiness felt like a void, an omen of what was to come. 

And although his father worked next to him in silence, Jon knew that he felt it too. It wasn't until the sun had gone all the way down and they were raking the field, stirring the soil and leaving protective mark's there, that his father finally spoke again. "We are about to enter an entirely new kind of war," he said so softly that Jon almost missed it. He paused and watched his father as he worked, back tense and eyes focused on the ground. "The King does not want us to prepare for one, but we need to be ready in case anything happens." He looked up at Jon. "What would you do for Damian?" 

His mouth felt dry as he stammered, "A-anything."

Clark stopped moving. "Even kill?" His mouth hung open in a non answer and his father's frown deepened. "You need to be prepared, Jon. For all possibilities. For when the war comes, you and I will be the final stand between our leaders and what seeks to snuff them out. Protect him at all costs." And as he said that, his father looked sadder than Jon had ever seen him.

-

Jon spent the next morning by the river looking for the most perfectly balanced rock that he could find. When he made it back home he had a pouch full of smooth stones that he laid out in the sun to get warm as he examined them. River rocks were an entirely neutral conductor. Magic rolled right off of them, unable to find any surface to hold onto. Jon selected the smoothest two and took them one at a time between his palms. He muttered to them, cutting them with his tongue and warming it in his hand until he was able to pop out the middle and a stone ring lay in the flat of his palm. He repeated the process until he had two and headed up to the castle, most of the town just starting to struggle to life as he moved through it. 

Damian was still in bed when he pushed into his room, shutting the door as quietly as possible so he didn't startle him. He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the hair out of Damian's face, taking a moment to appreciate just how peaceful he looked before he kissed him just under his ear and he stirred. He smiled when he saw Jon looked down at him, and when he woke a little more he frowned. 

"Where were you yesterday?" He asked, his voice scratchy from sleep. 

"My mother was ill," he lied easily, hating how simple it was to say these words and know that Damian would believe them. 

He frowned more deeply. "Is she alright?" 

Jon nodded. "She will be," he promised. "I am sorry that I made you worry." He kissed him and Damian seemed appeased. 

He pulled Jon down with him, letting his tongue slip between his teeth and Jon hummed in content at the slow warmth in the kiss. "Next time send a message," he told him and just like that he was his bossy self again. 

"Okay," Jon agreed and crawled onto him, pressing his knee up between his legs and swallowing the groan that came out of him. He nipped at his lip and Damian knotted his fingers into Jon's hair as he felt him straining against the sheets. 

"It is light out," Damian breathed. 

"The curtains are still closed," Jon reasoned and claimed his mouth again, all argument lost as Damian pulled him closer. Jon pulled the blanket down and slid his hand underneath until he found him. And just for a moment when it was just the two of them, the only sound Damian gasping in his ear and the only sensation the warmth of them together-- Jon could almost forget everything else. The Princess, his impending marriage, the war that his father said was coming. With Damian gasping out his name, he felt like he was floating in a nonexistent space where nothing else mattered. 

"I made you something," he said when they were coming down, barely getting their breath back. He pulled one of the rings out of his pocket and held it up to him. It was small having been cut from the more round stone and Damian watched amused as he slid it onto his pinkie and grinned when it rested there. 

"Not as romantic as I would have imagined," he told him with a chuckle. 

Jon had to kiss him again. "It is not much. But when you wear it, I am with you. Through everything and anything." He pulled his hand to his lips and sealed the magic there with a kiss. 

Damian held his hand out in front of him and looked at it. "Thank you," he said softly and curled more into Jon's side. 

He waited for Damian to fall back to sleep before he slid out of the bed and out of the room, making his way down the walk to the King's rooms. He felt his nerves spike with each step but it didn't stop him from walking. His father's words echoing in his head from the night before. 

_What would you do for Damian?_

He would do anything. Even this. 

The guard seemed surprised to see him, but did not question his presence there, instead he stuck his head into the room and announced Jon's arrival. He waited, hearing Bruce from the other side in a low grumble and the guard nodded, stepping to the side to let him in. Bruce was already dressed, and by the state of his desk Jon guessed he had been up for a while. His confusion to see Jon was apparent and he was distracted, but he also seemed glad for the visit. He ran a hand through his hair to sooth it down. 

"Jon," he rubbed at his face, "what a surprise so early. Forgive the chill, I don't usually start the fire so early in the-"

Jon held his hand out to the empty hearth and muttered, " _Kene_ _._ " A flame jolted to life in a blaze before adjusting to the oxygen and calming almost in the same instant. 

Bruce's eyes were wide, but the look of understanding and interest that took over him was all that Jon needed to know to see that his mother had been wrong. Bruce knew about his father's magic. And if he hadn't known about Jon, he had at least had his suspicions. But that didn't stop Jon's heart from racing as Bruce looked between him and the fire. "Can we talk?"

Bruce nodded, not moving from where he stood and Jon immediately sat down to surrender any upper hand that he might have. 

Jon sat forward staring at his hands that were balled together in front of him. He had no idea how much Bruce knew about any of this-- but from how his father seemed yesterday he could only assume that the conversation didn't go well. "Our sunflower patch died yesterday," he offered and looked up waiting for Bruce to tell him that he knew or to ask him why it was important. But he just watched him. "I'm not sure if my father has ever explained how our magic works to you." Bruce’s expression softened and he shook his head. 

"There are a few different kinds of magic. But it all radiates from a central source. My families were given our magic from the sun, and we use its energy to work with it. Obviously we are most powerful during the day, but we can store that energy in what is around us. That's why mother grew the sunflower patch." 

He swallowed and sat up a little straighter. "We had enough energy stored in that field to throw up a shield big enough to protect all of Gotham." Bruce blinked, shock taking over his features. "Whoever did this knew that. We were targeted, and now we are weaker than we have been for centuries." 

He stood, half expecting for Bruce to step away from him, but he stood still waiting. "I made these this morning," he said, holding out the second ring. "River rocks neutralize all magic energy. It will not stop an attack but it can help deflect it." Bruce took the ring and slid it on without questioning him. "I do not know what is coming, but I will do everything I can to make sure that you and Damian are safe," he promised and turned to walk out of the door and let the King settle into all of the new information. 

His hand was on the door when he heard his name and turned back. He expected Bruce to tell him not to come back, that he had spoken out of turn and he would not get another pardon, but instead he said, "Thank you." Jon nodded eagerly to him as he left. 


	4. Chapter 4

His father had been in a mood that morning. He'd snapped at Clark twice and told Damian to be quiet when he was only cutting his breakfast. Listening to the complaints and concerns of the people was a strained affair. Damian watched his father as he stared directly at the people speaking without looking away. He watched Clark and could see his frustration even under his calm facade. Damian was distracted watching Clark and didn't hear what had been said so when his father turned to him he didn't have an answer. The King sighed, gave his order and dismissed the room. As soon as the last of the men had left he turned to Damian. 

"You claim you are ready to be King, but you get distracted like a boy during his studies. If this is so boring to you then you can return to your rooms for the day." The reprimand stung, and he ducked his head against the heat pressing at his cheeks. 

"Yes sir." 

"Hold on a moment Jon. The guards can escort him back." He looked to Jon, raising an eyebrow. Jon looked surprised but nodded. 

He fell onto his bed and resisted the urge to hit it. He hadn't been that distracted in years. But he knew something was going on. He could feel it. Everyone knew something and they weren't telling him. He wanted to shout at them all, demand answers to his questions, but he didn't even know what questions to ask. He heard the door open. 

"Let me guess what he said," he mumbled into the pillow before rolling onto his back and in an imitation of his father's voice said, "Ah Damian, such a disappointment. I wish my other son had survived that night. He was such a perfect child, a true King." 

" _Damian,"_ replied a voice he hadn't expected. He sat up. He'd expected Jon, it was always Jon. But Clark stood just inside the door looking like he'd been slapped. "You do not really think that, do you?" 

"Where is Jon?" he asked instead of answering. He knew the answer Clark wanted. And he couldn't give it to him. Damian never felt like he was good enough. He was always stepping into a space that he didn't quite fit into. When he was younger it was that he didn't smile enough, or that he was too small. As he grew older and a sword was first put in his hand he saw disappointment when he wasn't naturally gifted. Recently, his entire personality was wrong. He talked back, was too arrogant, and threw tantrums like a child. He didn't know how he was supposed to act like someone he'd never met, someone that he wasn't even allowed to talk about. But he could see the model in his father's eyes and knew that he was a poor imitation. 

"The King has asked him to assist him for the rest of the day. So I am with you," Clark answered. He could see Clark's discomfort and knew that eventually he would bring the question to light again. 

"You are welcome to have a seat if you want," Damian offered and pointed to the chair Jon always used that still sat in the sun from the window. "I have a busy day of reading, like yesterday and the day before that and every other day for the past month." 

Clark sat down, he looked out the window and like Jon his eyes closed when he pushed the window open enough for a small breeze to reach him. He watched him for a few minutes before picking up his book and returning to the page he'd left on that morning. 

He finished his history and rolled onto his back. He mapped out his father's campaign in the north on his ceiling. He reworked a few routes, cut days off of their travels, and saved them men in a few battles. His imaginary troops were working his way back to Gotham, eliminating unnecessary stops when Clark stood up. 

"Let us go check on the patrols." 

"I can not leave the castle." 

"Let us go. I will handle your father." 

He nodded, and accepted the coat when Clark offered it to him. They walked out of the castle, a few of the guards hesitated, they were all aware that the Prince wasn't to leave, but with a single look from Clark they stood down. 

The last time he'd left the castle was a hazy memory, only the feel of Jon's hand in his as he guided him through the streets was clear. Walking behind Clark he remembered running with Jon as they tried to keep up with their fathers. They had both been so tall, so big in his memories that even now he felt small.

A group of people stumbled out of an inn and Clark pulled him out of the way. He glared at the men who laughed at each other and stumbled their way down the street. Clark kept his arm over Damian's shoulder. 

"I can hardly believe that Jon's nameday is nearly on us. Just three more days. Any plans to set fire to the castle this year?" Clark chuckled and Damian realized that he'd forgotten. With all of the stress of the treaty he had forgotten the most important day. 

"Just three days? Jon has not said anything." 

"I am not surprised. He has been worried about the wedding and meeting his bride." 

His mind blanked and only Clark's steady arm kept him moving along the pathway. "Jon's getting married," he said flatly. His eyes trained on the space in front of him, but he'd have walked into a wall for how much he saw. 

"I thought he had told you," Clark said. 

"No, he has not." His heart took an odd rhythm in his chest. Damian squeezed his thumb to stop himself from rubbing his chest. 

"Your Highness!" The gate guard called as he scrambled to his feet. 

"We were taking a walk and thought we would check in on things," Clark said amicably. The guard nodded and nervously gave his report before Clark ushered him up onto the walkway at the top of the wall. 

-

Clark left him at the turn in the halls that led to his father's chambers. He gave him a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder before he left. Damian turned to his room. His heart racing, each step sending its beat ever quicker. 

Jon was sitting in his chair in the low light of the setting sun. He smiled at Damian when he heard him come in. Damian shut the door and breathed against its worn grain before turning back to Jon. He looked concerned and sat up, but remained seated. 

"Congratulations on your engagement," he said with the calmest voice he could manage. Jon looked shocked, and when that faded he saw the guilt. "Were you going to wait until you were at the altar to tell me?" 

"No," Jon told him and stood. "I meant to tell you today." 

"But you did not. And I know that smile you gave me. You had no plan to do it just now either." 

"I-" Jon hesitated. Damian knew he had been tempted to lie, but let the denial go. "You knew that I would have to get married one day." 

"So I should not have cared?" A thought struck him and he looked down at his hand. "Is that why you gave me the ring?" He didn't give Jon time to answer. "How long have you known?" 

"Your father told me the day before the treaty with Azarath was signed." 

"You have known for over a _month_?" 

"I just-- you had so much on your mind already." 

"So you thought I- what? Would not want to know? Would not care?" 

Jon was quiet. "We both knew this was coming. We have to grow up someday." He felt the echo of his father's words from that morning in Jon's voice and the vice grip around his heart tightened. 

He turned and ran. He heard Jon calling after him, but ran faster until he couldn't hear anything but the sound of his own footsteps and the too quick gasping of his own breaths. He leaned against the wall, bracing himself against it with one hand, while he grasped the neck of his shirt with the other. He stumbled forward and let his feet carry him down and outside, into the garden. 

With the dying embers of the sun, the warmth of the day went with it. He was thankful that he still wore his coat. He pulled it closer and walked out into the garden. The pressure in his chest eased and he didn't feel like he was going to shake apart. 

He remembered being afraid of the garden at night when he was younger. Now he walked through it, stepping through the creeping shadows and the clattering of the branches as he would with the sun overhead. 

He didn't know where he was going, Damian had only known he needed to be out. He walked down the path to the pond. He could make it down to the water with his eyes closed, it was one of his and Jon's favorite places. He didn't know why he'd come out here. He didn't want to think about Jon. Didn't want to think about him getting married without telling Damian. He didn't want to think about why he hadn't told him. He didn't want to think about what that meant. He picked up a stone from the water's edge and threw it into the pond. It sunk with a muted plop. 

"Dammit," he cursed and covered his eyes. He bit his lip and felt his jaw tighten as he fought back the hurt and frustration that had been building slowly over the last few weeks. 

"Damian?" He wiped at his face and looked over. Raven stood a few feet away. "Are you alright?" 

"I am fine," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. 

She walked closer and he looked away. She was frowning when she got closer. "You do not look _fine._ " She touched his cheek, wiping a tear away. He shivered at the touch, lightning shooting up his spine. Raven pulled her hand away. "Let us sit." He sat down near one of the trees. She sat next to him and looked out at the water. "Gar says that talking about your problems can help." 

"There is nothing that will help this." He ran a hand through his hair. Raven caught his hand as it fell back into his lap. A hum rose under his skin as she held his hand. She rubbed her thumb over the ring Jon had given him. Her dark eyes were locked on the simple stone. 

"You are not alone. I think you might find that I know how you are feeling." She spoke quietly, he leaned forward. "I know that we are not each other's first choice." Her eyes met his and he swore they were violet in the quickly dimming light. "But perhaps we could learn to appreciate each other." There was the scent of lavender and rain on the wind. He felt its calming effects and his eyes closed as he leaned even further. "Could find comfort in each other." That same lightning danced under his skin when her hand lifted his jaw. 

When their lips touched he felt like he'd stepped into a summer shower, the warm rain soaking through his clothes, into his skin. He stood there under the downpour and smiled. The water washed away all of his worries, all of his hurt. It left him clean, refreshed. He breathed in lavender and met Raven's eyes. "Kiss me again," she whispered. And he did. And when more of her words reached his ears he pulled her in close. Her hands, so small, so soft, caressed his shoulders and up his neck into his hair. "Tell me you love me," she said, pulling him away from her. He leaned in, but a tug on his hair stopped him, the pain was distant. His eyes focused on her mouth as she spoke again, "Tell me you love me." 

"I-" his heart heaved in his chest. He blinked and felt the warmth of the sun spreading under his skin. 

Raven looked startled, and forced their mouths together in a crushing kiss. He sighed as the sweet air filled him again. "Tell me you love me." 

"I lo-" 

"Get off of him." Suddenly Raven was gone. Damian blinked and Jon's back came into focus. There was a spark of light, it flashed across the backs of his eyelids like lightning when he blinked. He slumped back into the grass as the sweet scent faded and all he could smell was the dirt beneath him. 

"Damian." Jon grabbed his hand. 

"Jon," he sighed with a smile. 

"I am sorry," Jon said. He lifted his hand up and slid the ring back onto his finger. Jon's forehead rested against his and Damian breathed in the warmth of him. Jon repeated his apology. There was a strange feeling swirling under his ribs, but he let it go and breathed in Jon. 

"My head hurts," he mumbled. Jon kissed his cheek and pulled him to his feet. 

-

A heavy hand touched his shoulder, urging him awake. He groaned and shifted away, further into the blankets. The hand was insistent. He grabbed his wrist and pulled, flipping him over him and onto the bed. A voice that was too deep to be Jon's let out a startled yelp. He opened his eyes and scrambled away, only there wasn't anywhere to go and he dumped himself onto the floor. 

"You are not Jon," he groaned from the floor and rubbed his head. 

Clark chuckled from somewhere above him. "I am not. Although I am impressed by the defense technique." 

He felt himself blush. That wasn't a defense technique. That was a 'get in this bed and wake me up properly' technique. Damian didn’t correct him. 

"The King has borrowed Jon again. They are preparing for the ceremony tomorrow." 

"The ceremony," he repeated quietly. Clark stepped around the corner of the bed and offered Damian a hand. He took it. 

"I have some things I need to do out in the city. You could come with me if you are not busy." They both looked at the stacks of books sitting on his table and Damian turned to grab some clothes. 

They stopped by a few places, picked up herbs and stones from people before they headed down to the Kent's house. Lois was sitting on the porch looking out over the empty field. Damian's footsteps slowed as he took in the empty space. There had been sunflowers growing for as long as he could remember. Clark called his name and he stumbled forward rushing to catch up with him. 

"Your Highness," Lois greeted coolly after greeting her husband with a kiss. Clark stepped through the door into the kitchen and Damian was left alone with her. Lois stared at him and he had to force himself not to fidget under her gaze. 

"How have you been?" he asked when he couldn't bear the silence any longer. She didn't answer, just kept looking at him. He had accepted the silence when she spoke. 

"Your mother was so beautiful. It is a shame you did not take after her. Too much of your father in you." She tapped him hard on the cheek and stepped off the porch. He stared after her as she walked out into the empty field. 

"She has not been feeling well lately," Clark said as he stepped up behind him. "You will have to forgive her."

"How did they die?" Damian asked as they made their way back up the path toward the city. 

"What?" Clark said, looking startled. 

"The flowers." 

"We do not know." 

They were quiet. Damian looked around and realized that they hadn't gone straight back through the city to the castle. "Your father is proud of you." He looked over to Clark. "You are not a disappointment."

"That would be nice if it were true," Damian replied twirling the ring on his finger. 

"He is. He knows that you will be a great King." 

"I do not think he will get that chance," a gruff voice called.

Damian stepped closer to Clark when a group of men stepped out of the trees. One of the men shouted something Damian couldn't understand. Clark pulled him behind him. His heart pounded when he saw the flash of light and the man flew back. Veins of light carved their way up Clark's arm from his outstretched hand. 

The men spread out and Damian knew that if they were surrounded this would end quickly. Clark pulled a dagger from its sheath and handed it to him. He gripped it tight and for a moment he had no idea what he was supposed to do, then one of the men moved forward and the fight started. All of his training felt like it had escaped him as he swung wildly and stumbled beneath his blocks. He dodged a thrown blade, it embedded itself in the tree behind him. Clark shouted and moved and with it energy flowed.

Damian watched him when he could. And knew that Clark was constantly watching him. He stumbled when a man easily twice his size swung a heavy sword at him. Clark called his name, but before he could do anything he felt a wave of warmth flow through him and stared as the man was thrown back. 

Clark grabbed his arm and pulled him along the path. They ran. The men that could gave chase, but it wasn't them that he was worried about. He could hear people running through the trees at their side. Their footsteps breaking twigs and crushing leaves. 

He could see the castle. A high spire broke the emptiness of the sky. Clark tugged him off of the path and into the trees. He could hear the river, could hear the men behind them grow louder. Through all of the noise he heard the twang of a bowstring and felt the burn as it tore through the flesh of his arm. His skin screamed its pain before falling numb. Another narrowly missed his cheek as he checked behind them. 

There was a yell and a third arrow was loosed and it found its mark. Clark stumbled for a few steps, but didn't stop. His hand burned around Damian's wrist where his fingers were wrapped tight. They ran, they had to be getting closer to the castle, to safety. 

Clark stumbled. The lights under his skin flickered wildly. He heard Clark yell something and that same warmth spread out soaring through him and out into the trees. It was quiet. Clark's heavy breaths were all that he could hear. Clark sank to his knees. 

"You need to go. Run. I can hold them off." 

He was shaking his head before Clark had finished talking. "No. I am not leaving you." 

"You have to," he coughed. 

The sound of an arrow flying broke the silence and Clark slammed his hand down on the ground. The arrow, unlike one he'd ever seen before, stopped like it had struck a barrier. Clark looked up from the ground, his eyes glowing blue as he stared out into the trees. 

"Damian. Please. Go." 

"No." He slid down next to Clark and dared to grab his arm. "You have to come too. It is not far." 

"It is too far." Clark's arms shook as the men started to hit the wall he'd thrown up between them. The wall shifted, moving forward about a foot closer to them.

"I am sorry," Clark whispered. "I am so sorry," he repeated, the blue of his eyes glowing as he looked at the men as they struggled. Clark's eyes closed and he grit his teeth, pressing harder into the ground. "I will keep him safe. I promise." 

"Clark?" he asked when he went too still.

Clark looked over to him and smiled. "Do not worry. Everything is going to be okay." Damian knew it was a lie, knew that Clark was saying goodbye, but still those words, and that smile. He couldn't help but believe him. He pressed his face into Clark's shoulder and Clark leaned against him. "Damian?" Clark said, his voice strained as he struggled to breathe. The men were growing louder as they pushed harder. He hummed and watched the wall shift another few inches in. "Will you look after Jon for me?" 

He nodded. "I will. I promise." 

"Thank you," Clark sighed. His fingers dug into the dirt as he gasped a few shaky breaths. Damian shifted, holding more of Clark's weight. 

"And I you," Clark whispered. The wall crumbled. He braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut. 

"Damian." Jon was standing in front of him, his eyes glowing like his father's had. He had a hand out, a thin barrier of light surrounded them. Jon held out his other hand. Damian reached for it and Jon tugged him against him. "Close your eyes." 

The wall dropped and the sound of the men came rushing in before he felt a strange sensation overtake him and Jon collapsed against him. He opened his eyes, holding tightly onto Jon where he was slumped in his arms. They were at the fort. His knees gave out and they fell to the ground. 


	5. Chapter 5

Everything hurt. 

Jon could feel himself struggling back to consciousness before he had the will to make his body move. There was a warm orange playing in the middle of the black in his vision, flashing him back to everything that had happened in the last few days. 

Bruce had insisted that Jon stay with him after he sent Damian away, telling his father that it was time for Jon to take on a stronger role in protecting the realm. It was awkward standing next to Bruce as men walked in with their issues expecting to see his father and the confusion was obvious on their faces. Jon was confused too. He knew that his father offered Bruce advice that could not be heard, but that was not a magic that Jon could manage well. It was an old magic to enter a person's mind. And Jon had always been too evenly mixed in the old and new. So he listened as the man spoke, sending the smallest of sparks into the floor. He could feel the blacksmith's intent and the sincerity in him as he told his story to the King. And as he spoke, Jon placed his hand on Bruce's arm, sending the intent of the man into Bruce as well. He blinked when the feeling hit him and the smallest of smiles pulled at his cheek as he issued his ruling. Jon grinned at the man as he thanked them profusely and left the room. The King turned to him as the door shut and fixed him with a look of complete interest-- but also like there was a mystery that he needed to solve. 

"What was that?" He asked. 

Jon felt his face reddening, "I let you feel his sincerity," he explained. "So you would know what his truest intentions are and better make a ruling." He rubbed at the back of his head sheepishly. "I, uh, never had the talent with words my father has. But I am… sensitive to others in different ways. I get that from my mother." 

Bruce frowned a little at that but said, "I guess they made a good pair," as he waved the next man in. 

They stayed in court for hours listening to man after man and the issues they were facing. Bruce waited for his empathy input every time and the feeling of importance it gave him was nearly intoxicating. He had been practically glowing when he found his way back to Damian's room to wait for him, only to be greeted by the world shattering around him. He was supposed to have time to tell him. He could hardly hear what he was saying as he accused Jon of keeping this from him, but he also couldn't deny it. He sounded like the king and when Damian turned to run away from him. Jon didn't move to stop him. What was he saying? That he was happy to be getting married? That he would just push everything to the side for his new life in union with a woman he'd never met. Jon knew that he could be naive, Damian told him all the time, but he wasn't stupid enough to think that the intense love he had for Damian would just go away-- in fact he knew that was impossible. 

So he'd followed him, going to all of the spots that he always hid in until he got a pull in his stomach that led him towards the pond. He could feel that something was wrong before he found them, wrapped in each other with Raven holding his ring between her fingers as she held Damian's face. An anger that he had never felt before rushed through him as he yanked her back, a flare running between them setting off a barrier, brighter than he had ever seen before. He only had a second to wonder if it had been her when the light cleared and he saw the fear on her face. And that was it. She knew. This stranger knew what he had never told anyone but his family and his King. And she ran. 

Damian was disoriented when he put him to bed, muttering magic over him until his sleep was deep and restful. Jon sat with him for a while working through his feelings. The anger and hurt in his chest from seeing him with Raven and the guilt of his omission and not being there to stop her attack. And now she knew. She knew what Jon was and he had lost his element of surprise. He would have to be more careful, more vigilant-- but he also knew that he should tell the King what he had seen. 

He drew a protective symbol in the center of the door with his finger as he left and headed for the throne room. It was still early enough that he hoped that he would still be there. The room was completely empty save for his father and Bruce were deep in the middle of a heated conversation. He knew that he should leave and let them have their moment, but when he heard his name, he stayed just outside the doorway unable to move. "So you are using Jon to punish me now?"

"Clark." Bruce scoffed without looking up from the papers he was flipping through. "Now you are being ridiculous. I was only teaching Jon to do for Damian what you do for me and nothing more. He has a knack for it. A very delicate way to use the bond when I am positive that Damian does not know about his magic." 

His father looked flabbergasted. "What… what did you say?" 

Bruce gave Clark a pointed look. "Your son's magic," he repeated. "He came to me and told me everything. How it works, what it means, the sunflowers. The _sunflowers_ , Clark. We have been partners for nearly fifty years and you have never told me as much as your son did in mere minutes." 

Clark rubbed his eyes and guilt pulled at Jon's stomach. He had not meant to _not_ tell his father, but it had been so hard to tell Bruce and honestly he'd assumed they would talk about it. Because they were friends. At least he thought they were. "I did not tell you because you did not need to know. 

"Your son obviously disagrees," Bruce snapped disregarding the papers on Damian's throne. 

"Jon is a child who lets his emotions get the best of him." His father snapped back and Jon tried not to let that sting too badly. 

"Maybe you could take a page from his book," Bruce told him, now angry. "Let yourself _feel_ something every once in a while instead of closing yourself off to me!" His father did not respond and Bruce stood, pacing as he continued. "We are soul bound Clark. _Soul bound_. We are supposed to share everything and still you pull away from me. Since the attack there has been this wall between us, and you are the one that put it there-" 

"Of course I did!" His father shouted back. "Our sons were killed, your wife had died and I knew I was not welcome here. Not really. You blamed me for what happened and how could you not? I should have been with them." Jon couldn't breathe. His father never talked about his brother, all he ever knew was that he died and his name was Conner. Never anything else. "But had to be with you, because I could not stand the thought of you being alone with _her._ "

"...Clark." Bruce reached for him and Clark took a step away from him. 

"The reason I do not tell you everything is because I can not stand the thought of you looking at me like you looked at Lois. When she failed you, when Talia died. Because she was supposed to be better. But that is not how magic works, Bruce. It does not make you better. It just makes very flawed people stronger than they were ever meant to be. It is a gross burden that we do not get a choice in, and it is so easy to hurt the people that you love if you try not to help them and even easier if you do. I cannot stand the thought of hurting you any more than I already have." 

Bruce stepped toward him again, this time not letting him move away. He held both of Clark's arms and tried to catch his eye. "None of that was your fault," he told him so softly Jon almost didn't hear it. "It did hurt. But Damian is alive because of it. I got to know my son. This distance between us," his hand slid down his father's arm and Jon's heart started pounding unable to look away. "We used to be so close. Even after the wedding. You always said you would love me, no matter what happened." He leaned in. His father breathed his name as they met in the middle. He put his hands on Bruce’s face and pulled him back. 

"Of course I love you," he told him. "But my love for you is all consuming. If I let myself have you everything else would cease to exist. Everything." 

"Then let the world end," Bruce sighed and Jon spun out of the entrance when they moved into each other again. 

Jon spent the evening watching his parents, the way they spoke and moved together like they were always meant to be when he now knew that was far from the truth. There was a light radiating out of his father that he had hardly ever seen and now he knew what put that there. Bruce. It had always been Bruce. Damian had been right to think that their fathers had been just like them at one point, and where were they now? Distant and misunderstanding each other until finally they couldn't handle it anymore and they broke down. Escaped into each other again, pretending that this had never ended. 

Jon didn't want that. He didn't want a marriage that was forced just because they had to continue their lines. Maybe this was where it was supposed to end. If he was fated to love Damian, like his father loved Bruce-- then maybe it was time for their lines to end. He would tell Damian tomorrow. About everything. The magic and lies, how much he loved him- and then he would let Damian decide. If they stay and marry or if they left together to find a place where they could be with each other. 

The next day Bruce kept Jon back again wanting to go over the ceremony. He was much kinder with his father today, leaving a prolonged touch on his arm as he went off to wake Damian. Bruce seemed happy to talk about the ceremony, ensuring Jon it would be beautiful and that Kiran would be there that evening for him to finally meet his bride. They had gone over just about everything when the guard with them finally left the room and they were alone for the first time. Then Jon couldn't help it anymore. 

"Bruce." He stopped a little startled that Jon had used his name. His voice was shaking when he nodded for him to continue. "I do not… I do not want to get married." 

Bruce frowned sympathetically at Jon and squeezed his shoulder. "I know you are scared. But Kiran is a wonderful and beautiful and young-" 

Jon shook his head. "I cannot marry Kiran," he said again, his heart hammering in his chest. This was the hardest thing he had ever had to say, but he knew that it needed to be said. "I am… in love with your son," he told Bruce barely able to breathe between words. 

The King was absolutely shocked, staring wide eyes back at him. "J-Jon?" 

He ran a hand over his face unable to look him in the eye until he got out what he needed to say. "I have loved Damian my entire life. More than the realm and more than the responsibility that I have to carry. I love Damian as if he were a part of my own heart and I cannot stop. I have tried so hard to stop, Bruce. But I cannot. And I saw you and my father last night." Bruce looked horrified when he looked up at him. "I know that you know that feeling. I know that if you had gotten to choose you would have-" 

"Jon!" Bruce said again and then he was falling to his knees in front of him, pain overcoming him.

Jon dropped down next to him, barely able to hold him up as Bruce shouted out in pain and guards came rushing into the room. Bruce was grabbing Jon so hard he thought he might break him, but when he forced his eyes open they were fixed with determination and a pain he had never seen before. "Damian," was all he said. "Go!" 

And he was running. As fast as he could, not stopping to question where his feet were taking him. He could feel him. The fear and anguish that was running through Damian-- and he knew that if he stopped he wouldn't make it in time. So he ran, he chanted and he ran building up all of the energy he had in him until he saw him and he was there in front of Damian keeping up the thin veil his father had created as it slipped away. He could see him crumpled in front of him, the man who had always seemed larger than life now the smallest thing in the clearing. He tore his eyes away and called Damian, holding out his hand. Damian took it and with a few words they were gone. 

And everything hurt. 

As he struggled to pull himself out of the darkness his chest felt like an empty pit that would never be full again. He didn't know where they had ended up, but Jon did know two things. The first; that Damian had seen him do magic. He had seen Jon's biggest secret and he wouldn't be able to cover it up this time. And the second. His father was dead. 

He woke with a gasp, pain ripping through his chest as he bolted off of the ground. He clawed at his chest until his throat opened back up and he was aware enough to take in his surroundings. They were at the fort and it was dark outside, a cool breeze moving through the long broken windows. He wasn't surprised that they ended up here, it had always been a stronghold for magic. Back before they outlawed sorcery in Gotham it had been a kind of market where you could go for herbs, potions and charms. There was still magic in the walls, but he could barely feel it now. Jon rubbed his arms as the cold set in on him. He wondered if Bruce was okay, if they had found his father-- but he immediately shut that train of thought off and looked around until he found Damian. 

He was sitting as far away from Jon as the space would allow him, a dagger that Jon recognized as his father's clutched in his hands. His eyes shot down to it and back up a prickle in the back of his neck as he pushed up to his feet, wobbling a little on the way up as a piercing pain shot through his head. 

"Damian," he said softly, taking a step forward, but he held the dagger more firmly pointed at Jon and he stopped. "What are you doing?" He asked, irritation sparking out of the pain and the cold and the fear. 

"Protecting myself," Damian practically hissed at him. 

Jon groaned and put a hand on the spot just below his temple that was throbbing. "What are you talking about?" 

Damian glared at him. "Just how long were you planning on keeping this from me? Were you going to go our entire lives just letting me think you were _normal_?" 

That hurt. Jon swallowed hard on that, "I _am_ normal," he told him, his voice breaking slightly. "Maybe I'm not the normal you are used to, but I have been this way my entire life-"

"And you never told me!" Damian shouted at him, shoving himself to his feet. "I have known you better than I have known myself for years and you kept this from me? What else is there? How can I trust that anything you have ever told me is true?" 

"How can you even ask that?" Jon demanded. "You know I would never-"

"What? _Lie_ to me?" Damian asked. "Clearly that is not an issue for you. You seem to be pretty damned good at it at this point."

"I could not tell you because I knew you would react exactly like this!" He said completely exasperated, "and this is the best case scenario! The worst being that you have me burned at the stake!" 

Damian threw the dagger down into the soil and shoved a finger in his direction. "Do not give me that!" He hissed at him. "You know as well as I do that I could never do that. You know my feelings for you-- or is any of that even real!?" 

The words stood between them, the echo carried away by the wind through the window making the silence feel colder and burned the empty space in Jon's chest. He watched as the malice fell off of Damian's face and they were both left staring at each other's open wounds until Jon couldn't take it anymore. 

"Where are you going?" Damian asked as Jon stopped in the doorway doubling over to heave out whatever he had left in his stomach. 

"We need a fire," he told Damian when he straightened back up, wiping his mouth on the back of his arm. "I do not have enough energy left to conjure one and we will need it if I am going to put a protection around us." A mix of emotions ran through him as he looked back at Damian, but the desire to protect him won out over all of them. "Just stay here. Please," he told him and walked out into the woods to find enough wood to start a fire. 

Damian stared at the empty doorway. He crawled forward and grabbed the dagger. He felt better with it in his hands. Clark had pressed it into his hands. Had trusted him with having his back. He'd failed him. He gripped the dagger with shaking hands. There was too much swirling in his head. Too much. 

The haze of the night before, the run for their lives, and Clark… He rubbed a sleeve across his face and bit his lip. Jon had magic, just like his father. Damian had watched Clark fight, hand blazing. He watched him use that magic to protect him. He had _died_ protecting him. Then Jon had been there, eyes the bluest he'd ever seen, and when he had reached out to Damian he hadn't hesitated. He'd taken that hand, he'd trusted Jon, because in that moment he hadn't had a choice. But while Jon slept Damian's overactive mind worked on every reason, every possible lie and deception. 

He jumped when he heard the crack of twigs snapping. His eyes locked on the door and he held his breath. They were back. They'd found them. This would end the same, it would be Jon lying alone on the ground. Staring at him wondering why he'd let him die. Why he hadn't fought harder. 

He tucked his legs in tighter, trying to make himself smaller when he heard noises outside the doorway. A bundle of sticks dropped into the room before Jon. He stared at him. Jon glanced over, took in the dagger in his trembling hand and turned his back on Damian to build the fire. 

"Where are we?" Jon asked, his voice quiet and calm. 

"Th-the fort." His breath hitched as he answered him. He could feel the claws of his fears ripping their way through his chest, squeezing his lungs. Tightening with each shallow breath. 

"I have never seen this room before." 

"I found it. It w-was hidden. B-branches." His loud breaths were all he heard for a few minutes. His breaths and the echoing twang of a bow string. 

"You remember when we found the old bell?" 

He shook his head. He was sure that he did, but he couldn't stop thinking about Clark's last words. The request, the last misplaced trust he'd given Damian. Even as he struggled to breath, he offered comfort, even as he, as he-

"You tripped over it. We thought it was treasure. We spent the whole day digging out all of the dirt and leaves." The musty scent from his memory filled the air. The ground had been cool beneath their fingers. The leaves damp and crumbling. They'd ruined their clothes and had gotten a lecture for it, but neither of them had cared. They had found treasure that day. "I remember laying our heads in it and shouting to hear it echo." 

"You licked it," he added with a small noise. 

"You told me it was a magical wishing bell." Jon sat down the small fire growing steadily as it ate the kindling. Damian pressed his forehead into his knees with his eyes closed. 

"Hey D? Can you hold your breath for me?" His breath hitched as he looked to Jon. He shook his head and sucked in two quick breaths. "You can." He whined. "I do not breathe unless you do." Jon watched him and when Damian sucked in a breath Jon did too. He held it for a second before letting it out, watching as Jon mirrored him. He breathed because Jon needed to breathe. He slowed his aching lungs until they were breathing together slowly and steadily. When Damian's breaths grew quiet Jon spoke again. "Do you remember what I wished for?" 

"That we could live here." He breathed with Jon for a few more minutes, but his heart was still wildly beating in his chest. Jon didn't move from his spot, but he could feel him watching him. Jon was the only one who could ever calm him. The only one that he trusted. Still even now, even after all the lies, it was still true. Clark was wrong. He would never be a good King. He was weak. This was a weakness that he couldn't overcome. He'd never survive. He'd die. 

"I am sorry," he uttered. He stared at the dagger. His breath rushed in again. "I just stood there. He- he needed help and I did not--I could not do anything." He buried his face into his knees. "It is my fault. If I had- If I was not so useless. Maybe he would-" his breath caught again. "E-even now. Cannot even breathe r-right." He sucked in a few gulps of air. "He should not ha-have," he swallowed. "not for- for me. I should have - it should have been-" 

" _Never_ say that." Jon's voice was like steel when he spoke. 

"Why not? You know it is true. You cannot tell me you would not w-want him here. That anybody would rather him be here. I am just a- a-" 

Jon's voice broke through. "Breathe." 

"I am trying!" 

"Can I come closer?" Jon asked, but hadn't moved from his spot. 

He nodded. Jon moved slowly across the space not wanting to startle him any further. Jon took the dagger from him and set it aside. He watched him pull Damian's hands away from his legs and rub his hands until his grip loosened. Jon sat down and leaned against him. He closed his eyes focusing on the feel of Jon and nothing else. By the time he felt like he was back to himself Jon was asleep again with his head resting on his shoulder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello fellow humans. 
> 
> I'm sorry for the lack of general pep and charisma lately. I have been going through a writers block and depression and I find it difficult to even remember to post these chapters later. Thank god for DNA pr everything would be a day off. Anyway, welcome to the sadness. I remember thos being the chapter where I really started to enjoy this story so I hope the same goes for you guys. Thank you all SO MUCH for reading and I promise to reply back to all your wonderful comments very soon♡♡♡
> 
> -Prubbs


	6. Chapter 6

"Jon."

"A few more minutes," Jon mumbled and pushed his face into his shoulder. 

"The sun is out," he told him. Jon shifted, turning his face back out to the open room. 

"Oh," Jon whispered. "It was not a dream, was it?" 

"No." 

"I did not think so," Jon's voice wobbled. "Are you still angry with me?" 

"No." He closed his eyes. "I think I was just scared." 

"Of me," Jon said. Damian found Jon's hand and squeezed it. He wanted to deny it to swear that he wasn't, but last night when Jon had woken up it was like he was looking at a stranger. It still felt like he didn't truly know him, but Jon was all he had right then. 

Jon unfolded and looked around the room. The fire had died halfway through the night. He'd watched it dwindle and had wished for the dagger as he stared out into the dark. 

"We should head back, find your father," Jon said. 

Damian watched Jon as they walked back from the fort. He stretched a few times, each time his step was a little lighter, his gait more relaxed after. He didn't look like he was in pain as he walked like he had the night before. 

Jon had looked surprised when Damian had taken his hand when they'd stepped out of the hidden room, but hadn't let go. Jon turned and they walked toward the edge of the town. He saw the empty fields and stepped closer to Jon as they snuck along the edge. 

Jon hesitated at the back door of his house. Damian could see him take a breath before pushing it open. There was destruction everywhere. Anything that had been on a shelf was strewn on the floor. The table was overturned. Jon walked further into the room. He tugged Jon back before he could call out. 

"They might be near," he whispered. "We should go." 

Jon looked back at him, then frowned and picked up an empty bottle sitting on the counter. He looked back at the room then nodded and they were back outside and to the edge of the trees. 

"I need you to be silent. I will answer any of your questions, but right now quiet." Jon waited for his nod and opened the bottle.

_"Jon. I do not have much time. They have taken the city. They will have the castle before dawn. I wanted to wait, but we have to go. Do you remember when we visited a friend and you ate too many cakes? We will wait for you there. Be safe. I love you."_

Jon set the bottle down and looked out over the empty field and up to the castle overlooking everything. 

"We should go." 

"We cannot just leave! I cannot just abandon my people. My father," he added in a whisper. 

"I know, but there is nothing we can do right now. We need to get help. _Please_ , Damian. Trust me." 

Damian stared at the castle, his home, and nodded. "Where are we going?" 

\---

The Hidden City was about a week's walk from Gotham, heading towards the foothills that split them off from the Northern Sea. It was away from almost everything and a mecca for magic users that had no home, which wasn't as few and far between as Damian thought it would be. 

"I do not understand," he said, shaking his head. He seemed less ill at ease now that the sun was out and Jon had tended to the arrow wound on his arm. "Would not the…" he looked at Jon out of the corner of his eye, "sorcerers," he cleared his throat, "have sided with Aserath? Gotham would not have offered freedom to them. Surely Aserath would be their only option."

"Not exactly." Jon sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He was still feeling drained from the vanishing spell and there was too much shade for him to take in enough energy to feel safe. "After the war, there were a decent amount of mages that did not choose a side. Can you blame them?" Damian frowned and Jon kept his eyes straight ahead. "There really was no good side. In Gotham, they would be killed and in Aserath, they would be enslaved-- so they made a mecca for wandering mages and hid it where they thought it would not be found."

"That must have taken a long time," Damian offered. 

Jon nodded. "It did. My father founded it."

A silence passed between them at the mention of yet another lie that sat heavy between them. And of course his father. "Damian?" He asked softly, almost wishing not to be heard, but he knew that he had, feeling his eyes stare into him. "My mom… in her message she said 'we'. _We_ have to go." He swallowed not daring to give himself hope. "D-Do you think that maybe my dad…" he couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence. 

He waited for Damian to tell him that he had watched his father die. To crush the hope and tell him that there wasn't any way he was coming back and no one could have saved him. But instead he took Jon's hand, squeezed it, and said, "Maybe."

They walked in silence until the sun went down. 

He could feel Damian watching him as he cast his concealing charm over their campgrounds. He drew symbols and a light flew out of him into the soil where it bloomed into a wall. He fell next to the fire with a huff and took a deep breath as the warmth hit his face, soaking in whatever he could with his eyes closed. He hadn't realised that he had fallen asleep until Damian was shaking him awake with the whisper of his name in his lips. 

He sat up with a jolt and followed his gaze to the edge of the trees that lead back out to the path. There were torch lights moving slowly and voices being blurred by the wind. He tried to keep his shoulders from tensing and rolled up to his feet so that he was crouching in front of Damian. 

"They cannot see us," he told him. "And they cannot hear us. But if they touch the barrier they will be able to feel it." Damian nodded and Jon walked toward the edge waiting. 

He watched silently as one of the lights branched off from the path and a man came into view. He was pale just like the Princess and his eyes were pale blue and clouded like a corpse. Jon hissed and dragged Damian behind the tree, pinning him there as he closed his eyes to suck the light out of the fire. "Jon, what--?" he asked confused. 

"He is using a spell to see through my glamor," he told him. "In a matter of minutes he will see through the barrier and call for backup. We could be surrounded here." 

"You could make us travel. Like yesterday," Damian said. 

Jon took Damian's face in his hands and shook his head. "I am not strong enough right now. I am going to drop the barrier and you need to run. Do not worry about where I will be able to find you." Damian was shaking his head looking like he was about to order him against that but Jon kissed him before he could say anything to the contrary. He pushed back and turned to where the man was, but he had moved to where he was also behind the tree, watching them with his cloudy eyes that could see through the barrier. He was frowning and Jon blocked Damian with his arm holding out his hand ready to cast his spell.

The man held his hands up and stared at them for a moment before a deep voice came out of him. "She will not stop looking until she finds him," he told Jon, the hair standing up all the way up his arms. "She has everyone looking. You know how easy it will be for her to take him over and use him."

Jon grit his teeth together to keep himself from shouting that she could not have him, that he wouldn't let her. But the man continued. "She killed your father. She thinks nothing of his son. Does not know that your true power has yet to come." He shook his head and they both turned toward the shout from the main road. 

Jon swallowed, trying to get control over the erratic beating of his heart. "Why are you telling us this?" He asked, hoping he sounded braver than he felt. 

The man looked back at the group still through the trees and frowned, dropping the spell he was doing so that his eyes were just a normal blue. "Just end this." Was all he said and started walking back. "Nothing down here," he called and the lights moved further back toward Gotham. 

They waited for the lights to fade off into the distance breathing hard like they really had run away. As soon as they couldn't be seen anymore, Damian grabbed Jon around the waist and pulled him in. They kissed hard enough that he couldn't feel anything but Damian. Damian's hands in his hair and on his back, pushing up his shirt until even his skin wasn't his own. 

"Jon." He hummed into Damian's throat, the adrenalin still working out of him. "Jon!" Damian shoved him back looking horrified. "You…"

He blinked and looked down at himself, a glowing light spreading up his arms towards Damian. He jumped and let go of him, walking back until he hit the barrier and sat down. Damian stayed where he had been standing by the tree. He reached out to him but dropped his hand after a minute. "What is happening?" He asked instead. 

"I-" Jon stopped when he realised that he didn't have an answer for this. He didn't have an answer for anything and his dad wasn't here to tell him what to do. "I do not know."

Jon sat as far as he could away from him. He stared at the fire for a few minutes before his eyes started to drift shut. Damian watched as Jon fell asleep against the barrier. He waited for it to fall as Jon's mind lost focus but it never did. The sounds of the forest floated through the air. He studied the flame, then Jon before he stepped closer to the edge of their camp. Damian poked at the barrier and his skin buzzed as he touched it. Jon stirred, but didn't wake. He pulled his hand back and swore the barrier moved with him. He shook his head to clear his mind and when he looked back at the barrier it hadn't moved. He sat down and rubbed his eyes. He was tired. That was it. He was seeing things. He could wake Jon up in a few minutes and try and sleep himself, but he knew Jon needed sleep more than he did. There was nothing that Damian could do against these people, against magic. So he kept watch, like he had the night before and he would every night until Jon stopped looking so pale. 

The first ray of sun broke through the trees and he shuffled forward nudging Jon's foot until he woke with a start. "It is just me," he offered and Jon relaxed. He let him catch his breath before adding, "We should move. They will send more out to search in the daylight." 

"Is it morning already?" Jon asked. He wiped his hands down his face as he stood. 

"Barely." He watched Jon swipe a hand over the fire that hadn't flickered or faded at all during the night. The fire went out with a single whispered word. Jon looked over to him, a wariness back in his eyes. "There is a river not too far north. We will need to stop for water." He had been trying to ignore the dryness of his mouth. "The next water source is not for half a day, no matter which way we go." He wanted to reach out to Jon, but held back when Jon's hand lifted and the barrier dropped. 

"You are sure?" 

"Yes." He dusted off his pants to have something to do. Clark's dagger hung at his side. 

"We have never been this way," Jon said. Damian could hear the skepticism in his voice. 

"I plan routes we could take to leave when sleep escapes me. I know how to get out of Gotham." Jon looked at him. He looked away out into the trees. "If we do not get moving we will never get ahead of them."

"Right."

They stopped at the edge of the trees. The sun was shining down over the water. He wanted to jump in and pretend they were back at the pond in the castle. Instead Jon bumped his shoulder and pointed to a bridge downstream from them. His hand hovered over the dagger as they crept down to the edge of the water. He wondered if this tight feeling in his chest was what animals felt when they sought water, but could feel the eyes of the predators on them. He was sure that they would be caught. 

"Give me your jacket," Jon said. Damian slipped out of it and handed it over. Jon pulled on the seams until they split. Jon grinned at the disgruntled look on his face. He tied an end and dunked it under the water. When he pulled it up the water inside stayed. He handed it to Damian before repeating it with the other side.

"Why did it have to be mine?" he asked.

"I have always hated it. Too many buttons." Jon smiled and dodged the splash of water. "Honestly, the fabric was easier to convince to hold water for me." Damian tied the sleeve to his belt and bent to drink. 

-

They made it across the river without trouble. He couldn't help but feel like it had been too easy. The forest stayed quiet and as the ground started to rise and the trees spread out the sun beat down on them. Jon stopped a few times, eyes closed as he basked in the sunlight. Damian watched him from against a tree. A few times as they walked he caught the odd strands of light drifting across the distance between them. He reached out to it once and the same buzzing he'd felt the night before shot through his fingers and up his arm. He pulled his hand away and the light was gone. 

"Damian," Jon called. He jerked away from the tree. "Did you just fall asleep standing up?" 

"I was not asleep," he grumbled when Jon grinned. 

"Just resting your eyes?" 

He nodded and passed Jon on the way to the path up the hill. By the time the sun was high overhead he was trailing behind Jon by a handful of paces. 

"Let us take a break," Jon said when they reached a small outcropping. 

"We should keep moving." 

"Have you slept at all?" Jon asked. 

"I am fine." 

"We are stopping. Sit down." He shot Jon a look before slumping down against the wall of rock at his back. Jon sat in the stream of sunshine a few feet away. 

Damian closed his eyes. He felt better just sitting down, but his mind wouldn't turn off. "The sun is making you stronger." He kept his eyes closed as he spoke. "Is it not?" 

Jon frowned and looked out at the sun as it moved towards the mountains, towards the city they were trying to find. "Yes, it is," he answered suddenly feeling very naked as Damian watched him. "My family has always gotten our power from the sun. It does not make us all powerful the longer we are in it. But it recharges us. Helps heal us. Kind of like sleeping, it just makes us feel stronger and more rested." He leaned back on his hands. "Does that make sense?" 

"Yes and no." Damian yawned looking like he had a million more questions. 

Jon smiled at him. "Sleep for now. I will try to explain better when you wake." 

-

They set off a little before sunset but quickly set up camp afterwards when they realised that the trees started to drop off the further north they went. They would soon have little coverage. “We can probably make it in a day's walk,” Damian said sketching the trail in the dirt by the fire. “We should hit more forest when we enter the mountains and from there…” he trailed off. “I am not sure where to go.” 

They let that sit on the air, the idea of going into the unknown not sitting well with either of them. Jon wished that he had a sword, he wished Damian had a sword-- anything more than a dagger and his magic to depend on. But as it stood they didn’t have a choice. Jon rubbed at his face. “We should go while the dark shields us.” Damian made a face and he nodded. “I like it no more than you, but without the coverage we could use the darkness.” 

“We should have killed that soldier,” Damian muttered, looking more and more unhappy by the moment. “We could have used his armor and his sword.” He threw the dragger he’d been drawing with into the dirt. “With only this, we are as good as dead.” 

Jon took his hand and pulled it up to his lips, holding it there for a moment. They had been sparing with their touch for days and he could feel his need for him growing like a sickness only Damian could cure. “We will be fine,” Jon assured him, hoping that it didn’t sound like he was trying to convince himself. “We are smart and fast. Our father’s have been up against worse odds and they made it out.” 

Neither of them said the obvious. Jon's father was the strongest man either of them had ever known. He had faced these men and hadn’t made it. They stood no chance. 

“You are right," Damian said finally, squeezing his hand. “We will be fine.” 

-

They stood at the edge of the forest until the sun had completely set, hands together as they both waited for the other to take the first step. Damian had the dagger clenched tight in his other fist and Jon muttered a quick protection charm over them before they couldn’t avoid it anymore. 

Jon stepped out into the darkness keeping Damian close at his side. They had agreed not to light a fire. Neither of them relished the idea of them being defenseless in the dark, but it was better than alerting anyone to their presence. So they walked as quietly and as quickly as they possibly could. They were less tense when an hour went by and then another without notice, a cool breeze making the echoing silence a little less terrifying. With the white nose to mask their footsteps, Damian relaxed, taking the time to ask Jon question upon question, seemingly more excited with each passing answer. “Okay, but surely there are rules to all of these…” he waved his hand around, still not able to bring himself to say magic. “Things that just are _not_ possible.” 

“Well sure,” Jon shrugged. “There is a limit for everything, but it varies.”

Damian frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“I am not sure how to explain it," Jon admitted. 

Damian squeezed his hand. “Try?” 

So he did. “I guess the easiest way to start would be…” he trailed off and made a face. “So, people are either born with magic or without,” he started. “You can not learn how to wield it unless you already have it in you. There are only two types of magic, but wielders get their energy from different places? My father gains magic from solar energy, it makes him stronger and more able. My mother draws her magic from the earth, from coolness under the soil and what grows out of it. I am sometimes able to pull on both.” 

“The sunflowers…” Damian trailed off. 

Jon nodded. “She grew them and her and my father filled them with energy and light so that if anything happened they could defend the palace.” Damian didn’t say anything and Jon knew he understood, so he moved on. “But others get magic from stones. Some from the darkness. They can harness the cold and suck the life out of the world. They are,” he hesitated on the word evil, for some reason it felt wrong and tasted like copper on his tongue. “They are who we fought in the war.” He swallowed the taste down. “Even with different kinds of magic, it works mostly the same. Each magician is stronger in what the base of their power is so they tend to migrate towards where it is the most prominent.” 

“That does not make sense.” Damian cut him off and made a face at Jon. “If you need the sun to… to recharge, then why are the Kents in Gotham?”

Jon frowned at him. “Is that not obvious?” he asked. When Damian kept staring at him he pulled him to a stop. “We stayed because of you. Your family. We have been soul bound since the beginning of our lines.” 

“What does that even mean?” Damian asked shaking his head, the excitement from earlier quickly morphing into anxiety. “Is all of this-” he gestured between them. “Just some spell that has been forcing us together for our entire lives-” 

Jon took Damian by both of his shoulders, shaking him out of the rant he was getting ready to launch into. “I do not care," he told him. “It matters not if all of this was set up by two random people thousands of years ago. I do not care, Damian. Because even if it were an order from the moon and I had no magic and we had never met.” He brushed the hair out of Damian’s eyes. "Whatever they did could never change the way I feel about you-” 

“Well isn’t this sweet?” He shoved Damian behind him in an instant as a man stepped out of the darkness that was overwhelming behind them. Jon cursed himself silently for letting his guard down. His father would have been furious with him, but he pushed that away, he didn’t need to be distracted. 

The man was in all black -- a stark contrast with dark hair and eyes reflecting off skin so pale he almost seemed to be glowing. His hair was smooth but came to points at either side of his temple and his smile was stretched from one ear to another. “When the Dark Priestess sent us after her fiancé, I did not realise he had shacked up with a peasant.” 

Damian stepped forward, but Jon didn’t move from in front of him. He held his hand flat against the air and muttered, “ _Kagemage_ ” springing up a wall of light between them, blocking Damian out of the battle. He could hear him pounding against it but he didn’t turn his back to the man in front of him, his smile even wider, if that was possible. 

“ _More_ than a peasant then," he muttered, his eyes growing blacker than the night around them. He held his hand out and pulled at the dark until it formed a spear. “Any last words?” 

Jon pulled up another shield, bracing it with his shoulder as the spear careened into it. The man threw another and another and after the fifth time it cracked and splintered around him. Damian banged his fist behind him and it was all Jon could do to keep the light up. He was repeating and needed to think of a way around this. 

“Don’t tell me you are a one trick pony.” The man grinned with malice as he pulled a new spear and stepped forward. 

“ _Kene_!” Jon shouted at the ground and it ignited into flames in front of him. 

The man cackled. “Cute," he told him and threw the spear. Jon almost missed deflecting it as it skimmed his hip. “But you will need a little more than just-” He stopped and frowned down at the ground that was shaking under his feet. He looked back up at Jon, the fire quelling around him, having made the earth warm enough to pull apart. “What…" He started digging his new spear into the ground to keep standing. “What are you-” 

Jon closed his eyes, dropping the barrier in front of Damian to focus his energies on the ground. “ _Geta_ ," he growled and the earth opened, swallowing the man under before Jon grunted, “ _Vel_ ,” and it trapped him there. Jon was panting, sweating and trembling at the amount of energy that had just been expelled from him. 

He felt Damian’s hand on his shoulder, shaking, though he wasn’t positive if it was due to his fear or because Jon was already shaking. 

“You… should have gotten his sword," Damian offered in what Jon was sure he had intended as a joke. Jon put his hand to the ground, unsure if he had enough in him to summon the sword back up to the surface, but after a moment it popped out of the ground, laying where the mage had gone under. 

Jon pushed himself up and went to grab it, walking back over to Damian with a small stumble. “Got it.” He grinned exhausted and Damian belted it on before he grabbed Jon under the arm and pulled him forward down the path before the mage could unearth himself. 

They ran when the moon broke through enough to light the path. Damian couldn't believe what he'd just seen. With a single word the earth had swallowed that man whole. He could feel fear clutching at his chest but he pushed it back, there were worse things to fear. 

When they finally stopped, Jon leaned heavily against a tree. His chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Jon looked over to him, a tired smile on his face. A smile he'd seen many times over the dust of the training grounds, after long days of studying, and as dawn rose ending their night together. He moved. 

"Dami-" Jon's voice was cut off as he kissed him. He pushed into his space and back against the tree Jon had been using for support. It only took a moment for Jon's hands to grip him and pull him closer, pull him up against him as his tongue pushed into his mouth. He didn't know how he'd been afraid of Jon. How could he be afraid of someone that made his skin buzz and ignited a sun within his chest? Jon's hands tightened on him and he swallowed Jon's noises before they could make it past his throat. 

"Damian," Jon snapped, pushing him away. 

He stumbled and fell back to the ground. When he looked up Jon's eyes were glowing and those now familiar threads of light were weaving their way through the air toward him like the branches of a willow in the wind. Damian touched the thread closest to him. It wrapped around his finger and Jon jerked back like he'd been struck. "No." 

He looked down at his hand. It had felt right, felt like something he'd been missing his entire life and had never known. As Jon's eyes dimmed to their normal blue he shivered. The sound of the wind through the trees and the noises of the forest came rushing back. He pushed himself to his feet when Jon didn't move any closer. 

"Damian, what did you just do?" 

"What did it look like? I kissed you," he mumbled, dusting off his pants before picking up the dagger from where it had been knocked loose. "Then you shoved me away. Though I guess I deserved that." He straightened to his full height and looked at Jon. "I apologize. It will not happen again." He heard a noise in the distance, and he turned to look back down the path they'd just left. 

"I was not talking about that." 

"Horses," Damian hissed. He looked around, before glancing up. Jon grabbed for the branch closest to him as Damian pulled himself into the tree behind him. 

He climbed until he could barely see through the branches below him and watched as a group of horses rumbled down the path. He looked over and Jon was holding tightly to the branch he was on. The men were wearing Gotham colors, but he knew better than to trust that. 

They waited until the sounds of the horses had faded into the distance, then waited a while longer. Damian pulled his arms in as he leaned against the tree. He wished that he still had his jacket, the wind felt like it was blowing straight through him. By the time Jon signaled for them to climb down Damian felt stiff and uncomfortable. He followed Jon as they walked into the trees and walked alongside the path in case the men and their horses came back. 

They had run out of forest. The ground had calmed into rocky hills that made him nervous. It was further than he'd ever gone before. He looked back at the trees, at Gotham. With each step it took them out of his land, away from their home. He thought of his father, not much older than he was now, leading an army on his first venture beyond their borders. His father had been a constant thought running in the back of his mind since they had first left the Kents'. 

"Let us take a break," Jon said pointing to a boulder and the circle of shade it provided. He fell down and rubbed at his ankles. His feet had stopped aching hours ago, but the moment of respite had renewed their complaints. 

Jon held out the sleeve of water. He was careful not to get too close. Damian watched him. Watched the sun shine down on Jon and the way he almost glowed beneath it. _Had he always looked like that?_ The need to reach out to him drew him forward, but he shook it away. Damian tucked himself further against the boulder. Even with the sun on them he wanted his coat. 

"Are you alright?" Jon asked. 

"I am fine." 

They walked in silence for the rest of the day. Jon occasionally stopped at the top of a hill to look around before turning them down. Damian trusted that Jon would find his way. Damian could trace their steps on a map. He knew the direction they were going knew that the hills ended in a wide plain and the high plateaus that rose on either side of the great valley. The sea was only a days walk beyond that. But Damian had studied the maps. There were no cities where they were headed. 

That night was the first night where they could rest. Neither of them slept well, too wary from the nights past. But as dawn broke in a wash of colors Damian relaxed. He knew there was a chance that they would still find them before they reached this magical hidden city-- but any distance between them and their enemies was welcome. 

-

Damian woke up with Jon's jacket draped over his shoulders. He hadn't noticed that he'd fallen asleep. He'd been watching the clouds float by, a thunderstorm building far in the east and the next thing he knew Jon was calling his name. He handed Jon his jacket back even though he wanted to keep it, keep the warmth it provided. He tugged the sleeves of his shirt down and they started walking. 

"Here," Jon said as the sun started to set and Damian could barely hold back the tremors. He paused to refuse, but Jon thrust his jacket out again and he took it. 

That night he dreamt of a howling wind rushing through the castle stealing the warmth from everything it touched until it was empty and far too quiet. 

Even Jon's jacket couldn't keep the chill at bay that morning. 

"Are you sure that you are okay?" Jon asked when they stopped to eat. There wasn't much left and he pretended not to notice when Jon pushed the last of the meat over to him. 

"I am fine. It is just so cold." 

Jon looked at him for a few moments then looked up at the sun shining overhead. He looked concerned when his eyes drifted back to Damian. 

"I am going to start a fire," Jon told him. He watched as he gathered a mound of dry grass and a few twigs they'd gathered before leaving the forest and whispered his magic into the branches until smoke rose and a fire bloomed. Damian shifted closer, the fire driving some of the perpetual chill from his bones. He hummed and closed his eyes for a few moments, his muscles relaxing with the warmth. "You have never been bothered by the cold before," Jon said. Damian shook his head and cracked open an eye to look at him. 

"You ruined my jacket," he joked. Jon frowned at him and reached out as if to touch his forehead. A thread of light broke free from Jon's hand and caressed his face. He sighed at the warmth blossoming in his chest before Jon backed away and the light was gone. He closed his eyes. "Maybe I will warm up if we keep walking," he said when the fire started to dwindle and the chill returned. 

-

"Are we going to the plateaus? The Great Wind will knock us right off." 

"We are not going on top of them," Jon answered. 

"Then the valley?"

"You will see," Jon said with a grin. 

Damian huddled further into the jacket to hide his answering smile, and to keep the warmth from escaping. His teeth couldn't stop chattering as he shivered. It had just passed the afternoon and Jon's sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and yet Damian felt like he was walking through a snowstorm, and had been for the past few days. He was beginning to think that something was wrong. But they were almost there and he didn't want to worry Jon. 

-

They walked through the night. Jon said they were close and so they kept going. Damian was a few paces behind Jon as he struggled to keep moving to not give in to the frost beneath his skin. 

"Jon," he whispered. He heard the rustle of grass around them. "Jon," he tried again. Jon stopped and turned. "I do not feel so good." He dropped to his knees and curled in on himself. 

"Damian?" Jon called. Before Jon had finished his name, men stepped from the grass. Damian whimpered and reached for Clark's dagger even as his hand shook. He saw Jon's feet step inches from his face. He looked up and saw his eyes glowing in the dark, a shield of light surrounding them. Damian reached out, touched the bare skin at Jon's ankle, and the shield crumbled and fire burned beneath his skin, up his arm and through every part of his being. Then it was gone. Jon had stepped away. 

"No. Please," Damian mumbled and reached for him. "So cold." 

Jon crouched down and looked at him. He didn't reach for him, just looked at him with sad eyes and whispered, "What did she do to you?" Damian's eyes slipped shut as he watched a single thread of light reach out to him. 

Jon pulled Damian up off the ground and held him close to his chest as the guards of the Hidden City stepped forward to the man in front of him. He pulled the jacket tighter around Damian and tried to seem like he was unafraid. “We need to get into the city,” he told the guard. “Please, my… companion is ill. He needs help.” 

“He is not one of us,” one of the men from the back said and Jon turned to look at him. “He is human. You are not.”

“You know the rules,” another said. “We do not allow non magic users in our dominion. They will find our spark and snuff it out. We have worked too hard to forfeit our power.” 

Jon’s heart was in his throat. “No, it is not like that,” he insisted, but the man he had originally spoken to had reached out and grabbed Jon’s shoulder. 

He turned him around and shifted away from him, but the man did not let go. He gripped harder and pushed the hood off of Damian, revealing his face where his eyes were squeezed shut. Jon didn’t like the way he was watching him, like he was both disgusted and curious as a familiarity washed over him. 

“You are the child of Clark Kent,” he told Jon, his eyes sharp against the softness of his tones. “This man is your magevel?” he asked. Jon didn’t know what to say. He had heard his father say that word before but he wasn’t sure he had the full grasp on what he meant and he never got to ask. He nodded slowly and the man redacted his hand from him. “Let him enter.” 

The air shifted around them at the guards' unease. “But, sir-” 

“Let them enter," he said again more slowly. He was not questioned a second time. The circle around him opened and he stepped forward towards the tallest hill so that they could slip through the veil that was masking the doorway. 

The Hidden City was just as large as he remembered. Jon had thought that maybe over time or as he grew that it would have been less baffling-- but he felt just as overwhelmed as he had the first time. Only he didn’t have time to stop and wonder at it. He pulled Damian up a little higher so that his head was resting on his shoulder and felt his hand grip at his shirt. The shivering hadn’t stopped but it was much less violent and now that they were so close to where his mom might be, he couldn’t keep his fear from getting to him. 

“We will be fine,” he promised Damian, kissing the top of his head. “We are going to find my mom and she will know exactly what to do.” Damian didn’t answer, but Jon hadn’t expected him too. 

He pushed through the skinny alleyways, the torches that lit their way shifting all the shadows to make the ground look alive and a little disorienting. He had been all around the city with his mother when they had gone to visit, he knew where he was going, but he couldn’t push himself to go much faster than a steady walk. With every step he could feel dread growing in them. He remembered his mother’s message. She had said _we_ . _We_ will be waiting. She had brought someone with her, and even though he knew it was impossible, every part of him hoped for his father. He always knew what to say and what to do. He would know what was wrong with Damian and he would be able to help them. He would take some of the weight that felt like it was going to crush him. 

But Jon stood in front of the familiar doorway feeling like he couldn’t breathe. His arms were tired and his heart was pounding, but at least Damian’s shivering had stopped. He watched his own shadow on the door for a long minute before he shifted his grip on Damian and knocked on the door. 

He could hear someone moving around inside and the sound of something falling into a pot. Then footsteps. He tensed and the door opened to show his mother looking at him like he was a ghost. 

“Jon?” she breathed and held his face hard between her hands. “Oh my god… I thought… we thought you were-”

“S-something is wrong with Damian,” he told her, his voice feeling thick when he could speak again. He wanted to hug her and tell her that he was okay, but all of the fear he had been holding down was bubbling up and he needed his mom to tell him what to do. She let go of his face and let him into the small cave-like room, her hand on his back leading him towards the empty cot. He set Damian down and let his mom take over, her small hands peeling the jacket off of him so that she could get a better look. Jon took a moment to take in their surroundings. The room was small and had a few tunnels leading off that Jon could only guess lead to more rooms. 

This one reminded him of home. There were the same kind of sloppy and discolored cabinets, though it was harder to tell with only the fire light to see by. The hurth was full with a bubbling cauldron and they were not the only people in the room. There were three people huddled in the corner, watching them curiously. It took him a moment to recognise the older couple as Vijay and Rani, meaning the girl his age had to be Kiran. Of course. His heart squeezed, of course they were the _we_ his mother had spoken of in her message. He swallowed hard on the heart breaking disappointment and jumped when a large figure came out of one of the hallways. 

He was shocked to see Bruce standing there, looking between the two of them with wide eyes. “Jon?” he repeated his mother’s sentiment like he also couldn’t believe they were here, but then he zeroed in on his son. “What happened?” he demanded and limped his way over to them. 

It was only when he was right next to them that Jon noticed how intensely he was bandaged. His arms and chest almost completely covered and exposed by the robe that hung open on his shoulders. “Bruce, you should be in bed,” his mother muttered under her breath. 

“This is my son," he told her, barely able to hold back the malice in his tone. “What happened?” he asked Jon. 

“Well,” he hesitated, his eyes darting over to the Singh’s and then back. They seemed to understand and head down one of the hall openings, Vijay having to pull Kiran through the opening when she stopped to look back. “He just got so cold,” he explained when they were alone. “He was fine and then he was freezing and warmth kept escaping him. He... “ He felt his face turn red. “He touched my magic.” Guilt hit him at the idea that this could all be his fault. “Do you think Raven could have… or was it me? Did… did _I_ do this?” 

The worry was gone from both of their faces and Bruce put a hand on Lois’s shoulder, a kind gesture that he had never seen across the pair of them before. Lois nodded and stood, touching Jon’s face again as she left them and followed the Singh’s down the hall. 

“Jon,” Bruce started, taking his hand. “Damian is going to be fine. This is not your fault and Damian is not being affected by Raven.” 

Jon frowned at him. “Then… I do not understand.”

Bruce sighed and pushed his hair back. He looked unstable so Jon grabbed a few of the chairs from the table by the hearth and brought them over. He helped Bruce sit down and took his own seat in front of him, keeping a hand on Damian’s like he was afraid he’d fly away. “I was hoping that your father would have explained this to you. He said that you spoke about your feelings. For Damian, that is," he explained. He only had a second to feel embarrassed before he moved on. “Did he ever tell you about soulbonding?” 

“He told me a little,” he almost whispered. “Said there was a ritual, or something.” 

“Or something,” Bruce agreed with a hollow laugh and ran a hand down his face. “Soulbonding with someone is an extremely… primitive process…” he said almost delicately. “It is ancient magic, so it does not require much beyond intent. And the kind of intent that bonds a soul can only be deep affection. Love.” 

He cleared his throat and Jon felt his cheeks heating up again. “Because of your closeness, the bonding process has already begun. The closer that you are with Damian, the more of your magic fills him and his body temperature drops to accommodate that magic. The longer you go without contact, the more your magic leaves him and he will continue to drop temperature until he dies," he said it so matter of fact that it was shocking. 

Jon’s throat felt dry as he waited for Bruce to continue. There had to be a way to stop that from happening. His father had… well he wasn’t there, and Bruce was still sitting in front of him and his hand had been warm. “So, how do we stop that?” Jon asked. 

“You have to complete the bond.” 

He swallowed, the small tingle in his stomach already telling him the answer to the question he was about to ask. “How do you complete the bond?” 

Bruce shifted uncomfortably and pressed his lips firmly together. “You have to consummate your intent.” 

Oh. 


	7. Chapter 7

He dreamt of floating in the pond back in Gotham. The sun was shining down on his face and he could hear Jon talking even with his head mostly underwater. 

"I am really sorry," Jon whispered, his voice suddenly clear. He tried to reply, but he had no voice. "I swear I did not know." He shook his head and the dream faded. Jon was laying on his chest. He could feel the warmth of a fire in the air, but it was nothing to the warmth of Jon's skin against his. 

"Jon?" he whispered and his head popped up. "Where are we?" 

"We reached the city." Jon brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead and left his hand on his cheek. Damian closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. "How are you feeling?" 

"Warmer," he replied. "Hungry." Jon laughed. 

"My mom made your favorite." 

"Your mom? Did your-" Jon's eyes shuttered as he shook his head. He watched as Jon took a breath and let out the grief he'd been denying. Jon's hand slid down to his shoulder as he pressed his face into his neck. Damian held on to Jon as he shook apart, quiet sobs racking his solid frame. "I am sorry," he murmured. It only took a single tug of his shirt to get Jon to crawl into the bed with him. He shifted and pulled Jon in, protecting him from the world as he let go of his pain. 

"He's gone," Jon whispered. 

"No. He's here," he said and touched Jon's chest. "He is  _ here _ ." He kissed his temple. He remembered Clark first telling him that as long as someone was remembered, as long as love for them beat in the heart of the living, they were never truly gone. When Damian was young, Clark had sat him down to explain why his father was sad that day. He had told him that it was important to grieve. Important that he keep his family in his heart, he'd touched his chest, in his mind, he'd pressed a finger between his eyebrows. He remembered laughing. He'd said that as long as they were in their heart and mind that they'd be in every flower under the sun. He'd finished it with a flourish of a sunflower, hitting him on the nose with it. "He will never leave you," he told Jon. It was the one truth that he knew would never change. Even though he'd never met his mother, his brother, he knew that they were always with him. 

Jon tucked his head against his neck. "I do not know what to do now." He didn't know either. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to go home. He wanted to get his land back, his people back. He wanted to watch the sunflowers grow in the fields, and the clouds float through the sky. He wanted his life back. The life before all of this. But all of that was second to having Jon in his arms. 

Damian tightened his hold. "You do not have to." Jon shuddered and held him just as tightly back.

He didn't know when he fell asleep, but when he woke again Jon was tucked against him sleeping and his father was sitting on a chair next to him.

"Dad?" He moved, but Jon was heavy. Fear flashed through him when he realized that they were intertwined and his father could see that. Would know. 

"Damian. It is okay." He looked up at his father's face and saw the hurt there. "Jon told me." 

"What?" he rasped. He pushed at Jon. Jon just pulled closer to Damian. His father smiled at that, but there was still sadness in his eyes. "Jon, wake up."

"It is not yet morning," Jon mumbled against his neck. He didn't know if that was true, but Jon had never been wrong before. 

His father chuckled and Jon jolted up. He saw the instant tension, then it faded just as quickly. "Hey Bruce." 

"Jon. Did you get a chance to talk?" Jon's face went red and he shook his head. 

"Maybe you should do that," he said and stood. He touched Damian's shoulder. As he walked out of the room he noticed the hitch in his step and the stiff way he held himself. He looked over to Jon and the question he'd been meaning to ask disappeared. 

"You told my  _ father _ ?" he hissed as soon as they were alone in the room. 

"Damian," Jon said in a soothing voice. "I had to. There is actually something I need to talk to you about. You know how our fathers have told us about the bond between our families?" 

"Yes," he ground out. 

Jon looked at him then down at his hands. Damian shifted so he was sitting up, further away from Jon. Jon reached out and caught his hand before he could get too far away from him. Jon looked up at him. Then he started talking. 

There were a few heartbeats of silence after Jon finished. 

"No." 

"What?" Jon asked, looking startled. 

"No. I am not going to  _ consummate _ my feelings because of some ancient spell." 

"But you could die." 

"Jon. I love you. If we are going to have sex, I want it to be because you love me. Not because you think you have to. You said touch will satisfy it. Then that is what we will do." 

-

Damian felt nervous as he walked into the main room of the home with Jon's hand in his. His father was sitting at the table as Lois wiped a cloth down his back. He had a deep gash running up his back. It was red and angry looking. Lois paused when his father hissed and hunched over deeper. 

"Father?"

Lois gripped his father's uninjured shoulder when he moved to reach for the cloak. "Be still." She went back to the wound and his father looked angry, but more than anything he looked tired. 

"How are you here?" 

He listened to his father talk about fighting his way out of the castle and finding Lois in the woods. Lois' face looked pained when he said that. He knew there was more to the story. 

"Is there any food left?" Jon asked. 

Lois pointed to the stove, but didn't step away from her task. "We should find a healer," Lois whispered. He listened as Jon filled their bowls. "I cannot explain why it has not started healing." 

"You said they would not touch me." 

"I know, but I will try again. With the boys here, some might change their mind." Lois wrapped his back and helped him pull the cloak back over him. She frowned to herself for a moment before shaking her head. "Jon. I am going to go see some friends. Make sure that you do not go outside yet. There are some who do not believe in the bond." She looked at Damian. Her eyes dissecting him as they always did. This time, with Jon's hand in his, he couldn’t hold her gaze and it dropped to the floor. 

"Did you tell him?" Bruce asked as they sat down. Jon moved his chair closer and his bare ankle rested against his as they ate.

"Yes. He did," Damian replied. "I refused." 

"Damian. You cannot deny this. The process has already started." 

Damian looked over to Jon. "Father. I am done being told what I  _ must _ do." 

"This is not some joke. You could die." 

"Then I will die. All of this is because I did not stand up and tell you no. By hiding how I feel, by doing what I  _ had _ to do, I betrayed our kingdom. I betrayed Jon. So no. If Jon is to have me, then it will be because that is what we want. I am not going to let some bond dictate my life."

Damian didn't think he'd ever seen that expression on his father's face before. 

Bruce was upset. He didn't say anything as he watched them and Jon kept his eyes down on the table. He wanted to tell him that it wasn't Damian's fault. He was ready, he had been ready for a long time-- it was Jon who always hesitated. Jon who was afraid to go farther because there was only so much of Damian he was allowed to have. He didn't want to feel what he knew he would feel when he couldn't have him any longer. Especially when his father wasn't there to help him hold it together. 

He glanced back up at Bruce and caught him watching him, but he knew that he wasn't really Jon that he was seeing. His cheeks flamed red and a sharpness squeezed as his heart as bile climbed to the top of his throat. He wasn’t hungry anymore. He gathered his bowl and took it to the sink, taking a moment to put himself back together as he stared at the wall in front of him. He knew that he didn’t have time to grieve like he wanted too. Damian had given him the night before, and that would have to be enough. They needed to figure out what came next from here. 

His mother came back when he went to sit back down next to Damian. She looked tired and frustrated, but instead of saying why or talking about what happened she went back to Bruce’s back like she had never left in the first place. 

“I got a new balm,” she said instead of saying she didn’t have a healer. “Jon, will you help me with this?” he nodded and helped her undress Bruce’s wound again as his mother added a few things to the jar she had brought back with her. 

Jon took the moment to look at the wound as Damian and his father ground out a few things that he had a hard time paying attention to. The wound wasn't bleeding, but it looked as though it had just been cut, deep into his angry skin in three gashes across his back. He wondered how he had gotten this wound. Had it been because Jon had left him with the guard? If he had stayed--

Damian would be dead. 

He shook his head and tried to push out any guilt that came with that. He had done what he had to do, and he was sure that Bruce would have wanted him to go to Jon, even if it had cost him his life. He stepped to the side and watched his mother as she applied the mixture, turning his eyes away when he saw Damian reach out and grab his father's hand as he winced from the sting of magic trying to knit him back together. And the grief hit him all at once. 

He excused himself from the room and headed back down the hallway. He let his feet carry him back the way that he came and pushed into the room with blurry eyes. As soon as the door shut he leaned back against it and sank to the ground. The first sob tore him apart, ripping out of his throat before he managed to sow it shut. He gripped at it and leaned forward as if cutting off the air supply would make it easier. But it didn't. He remembered what his father had said to Bruce.  _ Jon is a child who lets his emotions get the best of him. _ And maybe he was. But he didn't know how to stop this. He didn't know how to make this kind of hurt go away and he didn't know how to be in a world without his dad. Jon gasped and tried to breathe past it, squeezing his eyes shut as he let his head fall back against the door. A hand fell lightly onto his shoulder and as if they had read his mind, a warm calm ran from his throat all the way through him. 

The next breath didn't hurt so bad. And the one after that almost felt normal. He opened his eyes and saw a very pretty girl watching him with a frown. She had deep brown eyes that were warm and inviting and her skin almost glowed even underground. Jon looked around the room, but they were the only ones there, and then back to the girl that he remembered seeing when they came in yesterday. "Kiran?"

She didn't answer. "I am sorry. But I could feel your pain… it was overwhelming," she told him and looked at the floor almost bashfully. 

Jon swallowed not sure what he was supposed to say to that. "Thank you," he told her after a moment and as gently as he could, he put his hand on hers and moved it off of his shoulder. The warmth went away but he had gotten some of his composure back. 

She didn't move from where she had been kneeling but her eyes did dart back up to look at him. "My parents told me you were handsome," she said into the silence between them. "Said your father was a very kind man and you were very much like him." Jon blinked at her and she huffed out a laugh and shook her head. "They have spoken of nothing but this for… months." The small smile on her face fell and she stared at the floor again. 

Jon's mouth felt dry, a burning in his cheeks and chest he hadn't been expecting. He pushed himself up a little straighter so that he wasn't slouching against the door. With the world exploding around him, he'd completely forgotten that he was to be married. That he was seventeen. "I am so sorry," he told her, waiting for her to look into his eyes before he said, "I… I cannot marry you, Kiran." 

She nodded. "I figured as much," she admitted and managed a smile, even if it was a little sad. "Your Prince… you love him?"

He nodded. "I do."

-

Damian was wrapped in a blanket when he made it back to the right room, looking up from whatever book he'd managed to find and frowning at Jon. He was sure he looked wrecked. His eyes felt warm and swollen and his throat hurt. He pulled open the blanket and climbed into the bed behind him, before he wrapped them back up. He tucked his head into Damian's shoulder. He didn't push him. He waited for Jon to find the right words to say what he needed to say. 

"My birthday passed," he said finally. Damian let the book fall into his lap. "I have been a man for almost a week and I did not even realize it." He swallowed and hugged Damian tighter. "There is a reason we get married on the day we become a man. Once you hit your name day, your magic becomes stronger and you are free of the restraints of childhood. You are free to offer your soul to someone." He pulled his face out of Damian's shoulder and he turned between his legs to look at him. "I love you, Damian. I… I love you so much that I did not even care that my father died… I was so relieved that you were okay." He swallowed hard. "You already have my soul. I will follow you to the end of this earth. But I want the first time I make love with you to be-- I want it to be everything. And I can't give that to you right now."

Damian expected to feel more when he heard Jon say that he loved him. But he didn't. Instead it was like he was being reminded of something that he'd forgotten, an old truth brought back into the light. He looked back at Jon. "I know." He touched Jon's cheek. "I have known that." Jon frowned and he rubbed his thumb over the corner of his lip. "I am sorry if I ever made you doubt that." 

Jon shook his head. He bit his lip and put his head back down on his shoulder. 

-

Jon sat next to him talking about something that his mother had taught him. It was unusually hot in Gotham and they'd just gone for a swim. Beads of water still clung to the tips of his hair and trailed down his bare chest. He made a ridiculous face and Damian laughed.  _ 'I love you'. _

Jon's laughter cut off and the smile that had been on his face all afternoon dimmed. Jon shook his head.  _ 'What are you talking about?'  _

He grabbed Jon's hand when it looked like he was going to get up.  _ 'I love you.'  _

Jon pulled his hand away.  _ 'Stop saying that. You are not supposed to say that.'  _

The warmth of the sun didn't reach him as he looked at Jon's now panicked face.  _ 'Why not? I love you. You love me too, do you not?'  _

Jon stared at him then frowned and looked down at the grass between them.  _ 'Of course I love you. But it matters not. We can not be together. You know that.'  _

Damian got to his knees and reached for Jon, but he moved back. His hand dropped down to his lap.  _ 'My father would understand.'  _

Jon's hands reached out and grabbed his wrists.  _ 'No! You cannot. You cannot.'  _

He stood up and looked down at Jon, still holding on to his arm.  _ 'I will do anything for you, but I have to say something.' _ Jon called his name. __

Damian opened his eyes, shivering under the heavy quilt. They had moved away from each other in their sleep. He shifted forward wrapping himself around Jon's back. The cold faded from his chest and he sighed. Jon sighed and Damian held him tighter. He tried to shake the unease he'd felt during the dream, but it stuck. That hadn't felt like any dream he'd had before. It was still so fresh in his mind. He could taste the salt of the sweat on his lip and the feel of the algae on the bottom of the pond beneath his feet. His chest still ached as it had when he'd asked Jon if he loved him. 

He couldn't fall back to sleep. He rested with his arms around Jon and tried not to think about that day by the pond. 

-

He heard his father shout and bolted from the chair by the fire. Lois had her hand outstretched to the door when he ran in. 

"It is fine. He's fine," she told Damian then leaned down. "You are fine," she whispered. "A dream. Only a dream." His father looked pale and his hand trembled when he wrapped it around Lois' wrist where she was running a cloth across his forehead. "You told Clark they stopped." 

"I lied," he rasped. 

"Why would you-" she stopped talking and her eyes went flinty. "Foolish man." She closed her eyes then turned to Damian. "Damian, can you ask Rani to go find Jon?" He nodded and stepped back into the darkened hallway.

He didn't need to go far, Jon was walking back in with Kiran when he reached the main room. 

"Your mother wants to speak with you," he said. His voice was sharper than he meant it to be. Damian grimaced and stalked back to the chair. Jon brushed his hand over the back of his neck and a little of the chill that had barely started to set in eased. He let out a breath and picked up his book. 

"He loves you." 

"I know that," he snapped looking up at Kiran. She had picked up the bag Jon had been carrying and stood next to the door to the kitchen. He felt like a child throwing a tantrum, but couldn't stop it. Every time Jon went out into the city with Kiran he came back looking relaxed and more like himself than he'd seen in months. He wanted Jon to be happy, and was frustrated that he couldn't do anything to make that happen. 

"Uh, Damian? We need to go pick some things up." 

"Already? I do not know if-" 

"You are coming with me. It will take a few hours to gather all of this." Jon held up a list. 

Damian looked to the door. Part of him wanted to go outside, to see the city, but part of him was afraid, because he knew that Lois was afraid. He'd overheard her and Jon talking a few nights before. Something had happened when she'd brought his father to the city but she wouldn't tell them what it was. 

"Okay," he said and put down the book. 

"Maybe you should change," Kiran suggested. He looked down at the shirt he had on. It was the only one he had, Rani had shown him how to clean it and had dried it using a brush of magic, but he could do nothing to change its finery. "Try something of Jon's," she suggested. Jon looked at her and she made a face with a wiggle of her eyebrows. Jon frowned, but pulled Damian back to their room. 

He rolled up the sleeves. Jon wasn't that much bigger than him, but he also never wore clothes that fit him correctly so the fabric swallowed Damian. Jon adjusted the collar of his shirt and tried buttoning one of the buttons, but it was missing. Jon touched the ring on his finger. "Do not take this off, okay?" 

"If you tell me why," he answered.

Jon's thumb ran across the surface. "It helps block magic." 

"Should I not be wearing it? It'll block yours?" 

"Bonds are born of the oldest magic. Some say the first spells ever uttered," Kiran volunteered. She stood in the doorway. "Nothing will be able to break it other than death. You should go now if you want to get to Isley's before she leaves for the day." 

"Right." Jon adjusted the collar of his shirt again. He met Damian's eyes and he could see the worry, but he smiled and took his hand. "We will be back late. Save us some dinner?" 

"I make no promises," Kiran said and grinned. 

Nothing changed much when they stepped outside. There were still stone walls carved out to create a larger tunnel. Jon nudged him down it when Damian was stuck staring at the pit of black that the tunnel faded into. 

They walked alone for a while before they saw an old lady walking toward them. She stared as she passed, an unhappy frown on her face. The next people they saw reacted the same way. Jon didn't look away from where they were headed, but Damian couldn't stop himself from looking back. 

He heard music as the tunnel started to widen and more light filtered in. As they stepped out of the tunnel his mouth dropped open. He'd never seen so many colors before. He looked next to them and saw a few more tunnels all circling the main chamber, up to the ceiling. If that was the ceiling. It looked like the early morning sky, but it couldn't be. He was sure that they were under ground.

"A tunnel through the plateau," Jon said when he saw him staring at the sunlight. "A spell hides the entrance from above, should anyone manage to survive the climb." Jon took his hand again and they walked down. Jon pointed out spots of color on the walls, an algae that only grew in these caves. There were caves down some of the halls that lit up brighter than the sun from a breed of worms. 

"Everyone is staring at us," Damian said as they passed another group that had stopped talking and turned to watch them pass. 

"They are staring at you," Jon offered back like that was reassuring at all. "You feel strange to them." 

"What?" 

"I do not know how to explain it. My mom said that you and your father do not feel like most humans. You feel starkly non-magic, but not. I suppose it is the bond?" 

"How do I  _ feel _ to you?" he asked. He didn't like the idea that people knew he was different before he'd even met them. 

"You feel like you have always felt. Like you." Jon shrugged. 

"That is so helpful," he grumbled. Jon pulled him closer, draping an arm over his shoulder. They passed a group of men their father's ages who watched them walk past with barely contained anger. He gripped the opposite side of Jon's shirt by his hip and leaned in to ask what the stream of light to the side was. Jon followed his finger and answered. 

"Okay. I should be able to get a lot of this here. You can look around, but do not go back outside without me." He nodded as they stepped into the shop. Jon let him go with a squeeze to his fingers and headed to the counter set up against one of the side walls. Damian looked at a few of the shelves, various stones and gems sat out. He reached for a pale blue stone, but a hand wrapped around his wrist stopping him. 

"It might be best if you only looked at the things in this shop, love." The old woman let go of his wrist and smiled at him. "Oh my, It has been a while since I have seen eyes like that."

He looked for Jon before looking back at the smiling woman. "Thank you?" 

She laughed and tapped his cheek. "Now remember, no touching." 

He nodded and went back to looking at the shelves. She pulled the stone he'd been looking at off the shelf as she walked back toward the counter. She called out to Jon and he smiled when he turned toward her. Damian relaxed. 

He was staring at a stone that looked like a flower had been embedded in it when Jon touched his back. He jumped and Jon smiled. "We should get going. I think you will like the next place. You can touch things there." 

"Why did you not warn me?" 

"I did not expect you to walk up to a power stone and grab it." He frowned, but let Jon pull him against him. People still stared, but he got used to it the further they went into the winding streets of the city. Jon waved at a family and they got a smile back. 

He stepped into the shop behind Jon and breathed in the musty scent of books. Jon smiled and shooed him off into the stacks. He pulled out the first book that caught his attention. He had a copy of it on a shelf back in Gotham. He skimmed and pulled another. He saw a title on the top shelf and reached for it, his fingers slid along the spine. 

"That could not interest you." He looked down the aisle to the broad man standing at the end. "Fiction is in the back." 

"Damian is fond of histories," Jon said. "I should have known you would find a stack to read." Jon glanced at the stack set carefully by his feet before looking up at the top shelf. "The green one?" he nodded and Jon pulled the book down. "Chaos and Control?" Jon asked. He looked over to the man. 

"It is a history of the land. The beginnings of Magic within the kingdoms," Damian said. "There was a note in one of the books I found." As he picked up the books he realized that he hadn't been thinking. "I cannot pay for these," he whispered to Jon looking down at the covers. 

"How much?" Jon asked. 

Damian went to shake his head but the man waved his hand. "Your money is no good here. Bring that one back when you're done with it though. It is the only copy left this side of the break." 

"Yes sir," Jon said. 

"I will hold onto these for you. Swing by on your way home. I might have a few more that will interest you." He smiled briefly at Damian. It was an awkward uncomfortable thing, like he didn't smile often and his face had forgotten how. 

"Thanks Perry." 

Jon didn't pull him in, but held his hand as they walked. "Perry does not like people. ' _ Books tell the truth.'  _ He always says. But of course he would like you." 

"He is not wrong," Damian offered. 

"You will have to stay outside for the next stop. She will not care that you are with me. I will be quick." 

Jon looked him over before adjusting the collar of his shirt again. "What are you doing?" he asked, swatting Jon's hands away. 

"It is too much skin," Jon said with a frown. "People looking at you and knowing you are unclaimed. It feels wrong." 

"Unclaimed?" he asked in a low tone. 

"That is not the right word. I do not know how to explain it. But I do not like it." 

He took Jon's hands in his. "I have been  _ claimed _ okay? It is getting late. You should probably go get what we need." 

"I should. Just-- just stay here."

Damian nodded and leaned against the wall next to the door. He watched people as they watched him. He watched a little boy chase a girl down the street as they turned the corner he saw two men staring at him. They looked familiar, maybe the group from earlier. He looked back at the space around him before looking down the other end of the street. When he looked back one of the men was gone. The other was walking toward him. He straightened and looked at the door next to him. The second man was back, a few paces behind the first. Damian didn’t like the look on their faces.

The door opened when they were a few shops away. The man stopped when Jon stepped out. Damian grabbed him and pulled him down the street away from the men. He gripped the back of Jon's shirt and pulled his arm around him. When he looked over his shoulder back at the men they were still staring at them. 

"Do people know who I am?" 

"They know my father is-  _ was _ bound to the king." Jon's lips thinned. 

"So they could assume that his son is bound to the prince." 

"Yes," Jon said. "Why?" 

"There are men following us that look very angry with me." 

Jon looked back and frowned. "It is okay. They fought alongside my father. They know better than to challenge me." Damian felt his heart thud heavy in his chest at the confidence in Jon's voice and a thrill race up his spine. Jon's eyes flicked down to him. He leaned up and kissed him. Jon looked surprised when he leaned back. 

"What was that for?" Jon asked. 

"I just wanted to."

Jon chuckled and tugged him into the alley and into another kiss. Jon's arms were braced on either side of his head as he leaned down into him. He pulled on Jon's shirt as he pressed into the embrace. Jon's hand slid down his side and gripped his hip, holding him in place. Jon pulled away and looked at him, eyes glowing in the shadows of the alley. "Been driving me crazy all day," Jon murmured and pushed the fabric away from his neck. He bit his lip as Jon sucked a mark over his collarbone. Lightning rocketed up his spine as Jon's hands slid under his shirt. He barely bit back a moan. Jon bit down and he gasped. 

"No don't stop 'em," a voice whispered.

"I want to go home," another replied and he looked over. There were two women standing at the mouth of the cave. One smiled and waved, the other raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Jon stepped away from him with reflexes he didn't know how he still had. Damian felt like goo. 

"Hi, Miss Isley," Jon said, rubbing the back of his head as he turned to them. "Harley."

"Jon. Your Majesty." The blonde woman gave him a deep curtsey before bouncing off. The other woman looked at Jon and followed after her. 

"Our last stop," Jon offered, blush coloring his cheeks. Damian took his hand when he offered it. 

"Give me the list," the redhead, Isley, said holding out her hand. "This is a powerful sleeping draught. A simple lavender spell would be easier." She looked up at Jon.

"His body rejects it. My mother said valerian root is the only thing that helps." 

"Terrible dreams he must be havin'," Harley said, dropping a few leaves and stems into a sack on the table in front of Jon. Damian watched her move around the room. She hopped off of a ladder and smiled at him. 

"You do not have magic," he said. He didn't know why, but he just knew. She felt different. It was strange realizing that. He'd never noticed anything before.

"Neither do you. Although that boy was definitely trying to fill ya up with some out in that alley," she replied with a wink. "But you're not the only one with a  _ fancy _ bond. Did j'a think you were special?" 

"Honestly? Yes." 

She laughed and stopped next to Isley. "I like the Prince." 

"You like everyone when you first meet them." 

He found Jon on his knees looking through a bushel of branches. "They have a bond," he said. Jon looked up. 

"How do you know?" he asked. Damian shrugged. She didn't feel any different when he looked at her now, but in that moment he had been so sure. Jon stood up and looked over to the women. "Miss Isley bound them together so they could leave Gotham." He turned to address the woman in question. "Miss Isley, do you have any other branches? These are too old," Jon called. Damian watched him as he took Harley's ribbing and bickered about the freshness of some of the plants. 

"Come visit again your Majesty! We magevels need ta stick together," Harley called as Isley practically shoved them from the door after Jon had wrapped and bagged the valerian root. 

He waved by reflex. 

Jon smiled as he watched Damian watching them and the shop from over his shoulder as Jon guided him back down the alley way and into the main town. "I thought you might like meeting them," he said under his breath. The streets were getting quieter now that the sun was going down and all the shops were starting to close. It made the cavern quiet and voices carried in the Hidden City. "Ms. Isley used to work in the castle," he told Damian who frowned at him. "Before you were born, she was a healer there. She made balms that could fix almost anything to the point where it was too good to be true. She had to flee after a while when one of the other healers found out how she was so good at what she did." He sighed his hand sliding down Damian's shirt so that it was resting on the small of his back. "She did not intend to bring Harley with her. That is why they bonded. So she would not have to feel the pain or the cold when she left." 

"But she would not let her go alone," Damian finished for him. He didn't ask, he just knew. He looked back at Jon with his eyes full of… so much. He nodded and they walked out of the town center in silence. 

The house smelled rich with spices when they made it back, Rani welcoming them with a warm smile. Jon had feared that the Singhs would be less than welcoming when Jon told them he could not marry their daughter and he intended to fulfill more than his duty with Damian. But they took it much better than Bruce had. They took it better than Jon's mother had as she stomped around and shut herself away from them for a full day before she came out and acted as if it had never happened. Jon wasn't sure if it was because they understood the old magic better or because maybe they were a little relieved themselves that their daughter was free to choose a man she loved-- but they had been very accepting of Jon and Damian, and made it very clear that they supported them. 

"We were just beginning to worry," Rani told them softly as she stirred what was on the stove. "Your mother is in the back room," she told Jon, and put a hand on Damian's shoulder when he made to follow him. "Would you mind helping me with dinner?" She asked kindly instead of telling him that he wouldn't like what he saw back there. 

Jon frowned and left Damian in the kitchen taking the bags with all the supplies his mother had asked for with him down the long hallway. He knocked on the door and pushed it open to find his mother sitting next to the bed where Bruce lay shivering and wrapped in blankets. He shut the door, trying not to sound as horrified as he felt as he whispered. "What happened?" He asked her rushing over to his side. "He was… better when we left." 

His mother frowned at him and ran a hand over Bruce's sweat slicked forehead. "I thought it was the wound at first. But we managed to keep it from being infected even though it will not close. And then I realised that it was the bond." He sighed and took the bags from Jon, rummaging through them as she spoke. "He and your father have been bonded for years so the effect of distance is much less and usually does not require any… well, recharging." She cleared her throat and pulled a root from the bag, taking a bite and chewing it up. "But now that your father is gone," she took a deep breath as she said that and took the root out of her mouth and stuck it into Bruce's, running a hand down his throat to get him to swallow. "The withdrawal from your father's magic is… I do not even know what it is."

"But… even with Pa gone. His magic… should it not still be in him?" 

"Oh." His mom breathed and fixed Jon with a sad look. "No honey. When your father died his magic went back to… well, you. Magic always circles back to the next on kin. It recycles while the body decays." 

Jon blinked. He remembered hearing that when he was a kid, when his father was telling him the history of their family. He was explaining how he had managed to work a spell that was made for two mages on his own, talking about how power circles through families and gets stronger with each generation. But he'd forgotten. "That is why my magic has gotten stronger," he whispered. 

His mother nodded. "And likely why Bruce is getting colder." She sighed. 

He watched Bruce for a moment, reaching a hand out to his. There had to be a way to stop this. There was nothing in the books he had gone through at Perry's over the last few days that said that human familiars had to die when their mage did. Maybe he could ask Ms. Isley. Surely she would know… but then he had a thought. "Ma?" She looked at him and Jon frowned at her, uncertain. "If I have Pa's magic… then maybe I could…?" 

She blinked at him and then looked at Bruce and back again. "Maybe…" she whispered before she jumped out of the chair and told Jon to stay there as she ran back out to the main room. 

They worked on Bruce for a few hours, Jon following every instruction that his mother gave him the best that he could. He felt like a toddler trying to learn words again. At the end of the night, his hands smelled like herbs and he felt like he could about fall over. But Bruce was warm and his wound was scabbing at the edges. Damian was pacing their room when he pushed into it and he jumped on him, holding the tops of his arms so he could look at him. "What happened? Your mom ran out and said… my dad-"

"He is okay," Jon promised. "He wasn't, but he is okay now. And he is healing. Barely, but it is a start." Damian's breath shook as it fell between his lips and he pulled Jon in hard, gripping at the back of his shirt. Jon held him back and rubbed circles into his back. "It is okay," he whispered over and over again. "He is gonna be fine."

Damian shifted his weight and unhooked his fingers from his shirt to card them into his hair. Jon let Damian turn his head to where he needed him and sank into the feeling of being his. His hands were cold and Jon hated that, knowing that he was the cause of it. He had been away from him for too long and he needed to make sure that he was taken care of. He ran his hands up Damian's arms and to his shoulders, then down his back, pushing power into his fingertips to run warmth over him. Damian shuddered and Jon swallowed the groan that fell out of him as he walked him backward to the bed. It creaked when Jon pushed him down, but Damian had a hold on the front of his shirt and refused to let the moment break. He pulled the shirt over Jon's head and closed the distance before Jon could do the same. He chuckled when Jon fussed about it and caught a hold of his hand as he pulled at the collar of it. "You will pull off the button. You only have one left."

"You broke the first one," Jon reminded him and a new heat lit up his eyes and Jon's stomach all at once. Damian yanked Jon back down and he was flat against him, his hand pushing at Damian's pants when someone coughed and they heard it through the wall above their heads. 

They stared at the wall, trying to mute the heavy breaths that were huffing in and out of their lungs. Jon knew his face was burning red, and when he looked at Damian he saw that he was a little pink as well, but his eyes were hard and frustrated. "I hate this house," he hissed in a whisper. "Everyone is always underfoot and the walls have ears." 

Jon looked down at Damian feeling guilty. He had been stuck in the house for weeks now, no one feeling comfortable enough to let him out into the Hidden City. It was like being stuck in the castle all over again only too small to sneak out of without being noticed. "Let me take you somewhere tomorrow night," he told him softly, running his knuckles over his cheek. "A special place, just the two of us." 

Damian looked like he had a lot of questions, but the desire to know was won out by the desire not to be overheard and stopped. He waited for Jon to climb off of him and tucked into his side before he whispered, "Alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed the chapter!!
> 
> *insert YouTube voice* Leave a comment down below and don't forget to hit subscribe.


	8. Chapter 8

The next day went by slowly. His mother woke him up early to help her with Bruce and it was hard for Jon to pull himself out of the warm contentment of Damian's embrace. He tried to ignore the sharpness in his mother's eyes when she saw them sleeping together, but whatever was bothering her, she kept to herself. She focused on making the balms and let Jon handle the magic, telling him what to focus on as Bruce finally started to knit back together. 

He was exhausted when they stopped at midday, Bruce too tender to continue. Damian was helping Kiran in the kitchen looking like he'd rather be with anyone else. His eyes widened when he saw Jon step out and he smiled at him before he sank into a chair by the fire and soaked in the heat from it, letting it recharge him the little that it could. 

Damian and Kiran fussed over him. The others came in for lunch as Damian and Kiran took turns straightening his clothes and messing his hair. He didn't understand why Kiran was doing it. She had accepted the break in their engagement easily, but it almost felt like she was biding her time, waiting for them to get back to the kingdom and things to go back to normal. For Damian to be King and choose someone else. But she hadn't heard the fight that Damian and Bruce had had a few days after they arrived. 

They had yelled at each other about duty for almost an hour. Even behind a closed door, Jon had heard every word. He'd heard Damian tell him that Jon was the only thing in his life that he'd chosen. He'd heard him claim Jon and tell him father that he had intended to marry him. They didn't talk about it when he came out but Jon had let Damian drag him back into their room and kiss him until he could barely breathe. 

He could feel the jealousy radiating off of him every time Kiran touched his shoulder and set a plate in front of him, but Jon held his hand under the table and gave it a squeeze. Damian had nothing to worry about. But Jon knew that he would worry anyway. 

His mother let him rest after they ate, but pulled him back into Bruce's room when they finished. Damian was allowed to come this time. He sat next to his father, holding his hand while Jon used his magic to stitch him back together slowly. He could feel Damian watching him, studious eyes taking in every movement of his fingers as he drew symbols in the balms that his mother made across Bruce's skin. 

It was already dark when his mother told them Bruce needed rest and they left her to wrap him up. The Singhs had already gone to bed and dinner was on the stove. They ate slowly, giving Jon some time to rest, Damian's ankle was tucked around his making the stiffness in his neck and shoulders ease. When his mother didn't come out, he told Damian to go grab his jacket and the quilt off of their bed and quickly washed the dishes. He felt fidgety and nervous while he waited for Damian to come back. He wiped the palms of his hands on his pants and grabbed the small bottle of port wine that had been sitting in the very back of the pantry. Jon grinned sheepishly at Damian when he came out and saw it. He nodded silently to the door and held it open for him, shutting it slowly on the way out. 

He took the quilt from Damian and tucked it under his arm with the port and took his hand. They talked on the way to the cave, but they didn't really say much of anything, just enjoying finally being alone for once. Damian seemed confused when they turned away from the village, but let Jon lead him toward the caverns on the other end. When they got close enough to see the glow, Damian squeezed his hand. "What is that?"

Jon grinned at him and pulled on his hand when he slowed down. "Come see," he told him and they continued toward it. 

They stood in the entrance of the cave for a minute, Damian staring in wonder as Jon watched the light reflected in his eyes. "My dad brought me here when I was a kid," Jon told him, looking at the glowing rocks that sparkled along the cave walls. "He told me that the rocks only glowed like that when a really powerful mage was near but-" he pulled Damian into the cave and led him to a hole in in the cavern roof and pointed up. The way the moon filtered in reflected off of one rock and onto the next lighting up the whole cavern. 

Damian grinned at him, the first real smile he had seen from him in days. "It is not magic?"

Jon laughed and shook his head, reaching out to push a stray hair away from Damian's face, "Most of the best things in the world are not magic at all."

Damian watched as Jon unfurled the quilt and set it on the ground. He looked nervous as he told him about the stones lining the walls. They laid down and looked up at the sky and the sparkling walls above them. Jon pulled the bottle of Port to him and took a long drink from it. He handed it to Damian as he wiped his sleeve over his mouth. Damian took the bottle and set it down next to him. "Something is bothering you." 

"What? No." 

"There is something," he said and touched Jon's neck. "What is it?" 

"I love you," Jon breathed. 

"I know you do." He smiled at Jon. "I love you as well." 

Jon pressed forward and kissed him with an urgency that he hadn't felt since their first fumbling nights back in Gotham. Jon's hands drew up the side of his neck to hold his face in place as he kissed him. He pulled away for a moment and Jon chased after him, catching him in a quick kiss. 

"Jon," he said, word half caught by the lips crushing against his. "Stop," he breathed. Jon pulled back and Damian put a hand on his chest to hold him away. "You do not have to-"

"I want to," Jon whispered. "I love you and I-I want to show you how much you mean to me." Jon pulled Damian's hand down and kissed him again, softer this time. He closed his eyes as it grew and Jon's hands moved up his back, and down his arms. "I want to take care of you," Jon said before pulling away enough to tug Damian's shirt over his head. He pushed at Jon's as he sucked Damian's bottom lip between his teeth and they shed their clothes. 

The light from the walls danced on their skin as they came together. The electric warmth that he associated with touching Jon simmered in his veins. Jon's mouth moved over his chest and neck, igniting a sharp heat with each touch. Sparks of pleasure curled low in his belly and he slid against Jon's thigh, between his legs. 

Jon paused for a moment, his eyes looking down at their tangled legs. He saw the moment of uncertainty, of fear. He caught Jon's hand, squeezing it once to draw his attention back to his face. Damian drew his hand up and sucked two fingers into his mouth. He hadn't thought of how that would feel, but he moaned around the digits and heard Jon stutter out a curse. Jon kissed him as soon as he let go of Jon's fingers, his lips slick with his own saliva. Damian gripped his arm and rocked against his thigh. He knew he could come like this, had before, but he knew that this wasn't the end they wanted and pulled away. He bent his knee as he spread his legs. He'd been naked with Jon before, swimming in the pond, tumbles in the sheets as they laughed and shushed each other. But this, and what was coming had a tremor of nerves rattling up his spine. Jon brushed his hand along his ribs, a soothing motion before he looked down. 

"Go slow," Damian told him. Jon looked up at him, worry clear in his eyes. "You will not hurt me, but go slow." He looked up at the sky and felt his face heating. "It- it feels better that way." He heard Jon's breath of surprise. There was only a few seconds before a single finger was pressing against him. He bit his lip. Jon kissed his hip and pushed in further, barely the tip of his finger. Damian closed his eyes and focused on relaxing, on letting go and feeling the push and pull. It felt like an eternity before he was urging to add a second. 

He cried out, the sound echoing up the walls, when stars burst behind his eyes as Jon's fingers brushed against that place inside him that his own never seemed to find. That burst of noise seemed to be all it took to break his control. With every slide of Jon's fingers, Damian let out little noises. They filled the air around them. 

When Jon added a third, he arched off the blanket. Jon's hand caught his and he kissed his knuckles as Damian gripped him tight. Three felt like too much. The burn of every movement almost too much. As his noises grew wetter Jon kissed him. He started talking. Quiet words that soothed the wild feeling in Damian's chest. His fingers had stopped moving. Damian held onto his face, held him close. Slowly the ache eased and when Jon pushed in again, slower this time, a spark of lightning burst through his chest pulling a moan from him. 

Damian felt a flare of Jon's magic in his chest. Every part of him lit up from within. When Jon's fingers slid in again a slick warmth eased their way. Jon leaned back, the chill of the air brushed against him, but he barely felt it with the fire raging beneath his skin. He closed his eyes as he let the feeling take him again. 

"Damian," Jon called, his voice soft. When he looked down Jon's eyes were glowing in the dim light. He watched as Jon opened his mouth and slid over his tip. He'd never get used to that sight. He remembered the first time, with Jon's eyes locked on his as he tentatively licked the sensitive skin. He'd barely lasted seconds. When Jon sucked and his fingers brushed just right inside him, he sobbed out a breath. 

"Please. Jon. I can't. I need you. I need you in me," he babbled. Jon pulled his fingers out and Damian whined. Jon kissed his cheeks, brushed his hair away from his face and looked at him for a moment. "Please," he whispered. Jon kissed him and then moved away. He saw Jon hesitate before his hand slid up the back of his thigh and pushed at his knee. He heard the sound of liquid spilling before he felt Jon pressing against him. He closed his eyes, holding onto Jon's wrist where he steadied himself. 

"I love you," Jon told him. "I will always love you."

He tried to respond in kind, but Jon pressed forward and his words escaped him. Jon was so careful, each inch that he moved was another fluttering kiss to some part of Damian until he could feel nothing but the warmth of Jon surrounding him. Jon's breaths were quick and uncontrolled as he laid his head against Damian's temple once he rested fully inside him. He turned and caught his mouth, rocking his hips to urge him to move. 

The lights on the walls grew brighter, dancing against his eyelids. The echoes faded even as their voices entwined. The jut of the rock beneath the blanket and the cool breeze faded into the background as he was bathed in the warmth of Jon's magic. It flowed into him, filling him until he felt like bursting. Then he did with a primal yell as the heat of Jon's magic burned every darkened part of his soul away until there was nothing but his magic, his light. Nothing but that warmth and _oh._

He sobbed out a wretched breath as Jon's love wrapped itself around him covering him, protecting him, cherishing him. He didn't know how long it had been, but when he came back to himself Jon was resting against him. His eyes were closed, but a smile graced his lips. He wanted to touch that smile, but his arm wouldn't move. He hummed and Jon's eyes opened, burning bright blue. Jon's smile grew and he touched Damian's temple. 

"Your eyes," Jon whispered. He felt Jon's lips find his and kissed back sleepily. "I guess that means the bond is complete." 

Damian hummed again. "Felt it," he mumbled. "Felt you." He looked one last time at Jon before closing his eyes. "'m tired." 

"Go to sleep. I have you." He was enveloped in the warmth of Jon's arms and between breaths dropped into sleep. 

-

He woke up with his head tucked against Jon's shoulder as he carried him back down the corridor. He lifted his head and Jon stopped. 

"I was starting to worry," he said quietly and set him down. He leaned against Jon as the world spun beneath his feet. When his mind settled he took a breath and opened his eyes. 

"You dressed me," he commented. 

Jon chuckled. "Would you rather I carry you back bare and debauched?" 

"They will know what we did."

"That does not mean they need to see it," Jon said, a whine starting to slip into his voice. He saw the blush rising on his cheeks. He leaned up and touched it, drawing Jon's attention. 

Damian kissed him and smirked. "I wonder what your mother will say," he said over his shoulder as he walked down the tunnel. He was sore, and it was harder than he expected not to wince. He laughed at the outraged squawk Jon let out, before he caught him. Jon spun him around and kissed him again. Harder, in a way that claimed him more than it ever had before. Damian hung his arms around his neck and let Jon hold his weight. "Do you think the bond really took? I am feeling a little cold. Maybe we should do it again to make sure." 

He tried to give Jon his most innocent look, but he knew he failed. Jon still blushed even as his hand slid down Damian's back and over his ass. He hissed when he squeezed and Jon let go. He got a few apologetic kisses before Jon let him back down to the ground. He pouted, but was glad when Jon let him lean against him as they walked back to their house. 

He knew there was something wrong as soon as they walked in and the Singhs weren't in the living room. He could hear loud voices coming from the back. Jon told him to sit, but he shook his head and followed him back. 

"Do not move," Lois ordered. 

"Do not touch me!" his father yelled. He heard the creak of his bed. 

"I have to apply the balm. You will not heal without it." 

"Then I will not heal," he snapped back. "I do not know why you are trying so hard. You hate me." 

"I do. You kept my husband from me. And I have hated you with all of my being for _so long_. But Clark--" her voice cracked. "He loved you. And he would not want to see you in pain. So I am going to do everything I can to help," her voice was soft as she finished. He heard the creak of the bed again and the soft noises of the balm being applied. 

He was about to pull Jon away when he heard his father speak again. His voice sounded weaker than he'd ever heard it before. "I wish you would let me go to him. I do not know how to go on without him at my side."

"I know. But you must. The boys need you. They do." 

Jon pulled him away. They went back to their room and curled up on the bed together, wrapped in each other's arms. 

"I do not want that to be our future," he said against Jon's shoulder. "Promise me that you will never leave me." 

Jon pulled him in, his breaths heavy against his hair before he responded with a thick voice. "You know I can not make that promise." 

"Please Jon," he pleaded. He just needed to hear those words. 

Jon sighed and kissed the edge of his frown. "I promise. I will always be with you." Jon kissed him and Damian felt something unfurl in his chest, something solid and unbreakable. 

\---

Jon was surprised when he woke up alone. 

It was still early, even underground, Jon could feel that the sun had not quite risen. There was a dullness to his magic swirling in his head that he had never felt before. That was odd. He had never been able to feel that before. Sure he knew when he was about to be depleted, or when he felt drained-- but he’d never been able to really feel it in him. And now he could feel it like his own blood running in circles through his body, preparing for the swell of the sun. 

He sat up and let out a shuddering laugh at the tingle under his skin. So this is what it would be like, the bond. He wondered if Damian could feel this and then he frowned when he looked at the empty space in the bed next to him. He got dressed and rolled his sleeves as high as they would go feeling almost uncomfortably warm as he eased out of the room. 

He took a moment to stick his head into the room at the end of the hall, seeing that Bruce was alone and asleep in bed. He looked more at peace than he had the day before and if he hadn’t heard the conversation that he’d had with his mother, Jon almost could have believed that he was. He watched him for a moment, now that he could feel the pull of his bond with Damian leading him in the other direction, Jon wondered what it would feel like if that went away. If it snapped. He shuddered and shut the door again, heading back the other way. But he stopped when he heard talking from the kitchen. 

“So it is done then?” his mother asked. “You have bonded?” There wasn’t an answer but Jon doubted that his mother needed one. Surely she could feel it on Damian the same way he felt it on Harley. They are different. Not magic and not human. Magevel. He stayed just outside of the doorway as she sighed. “Of course I knew this would happen, I had just hoped maybe we could find a way around it.” 

“Why?” he heard Damian ask. Jon wondered if he could feel him too, standing just out of sight wondering the same question. 

His mother was quiet for a moment. He heard the sound of water filling something and then felt the heat of a fire start in the room. “I knew when I married Clark that he was bound to your father," she told Damian softly. “Everyone in our community knows that the Kents and the Waynes are bound. It was not a secret. And I did not get to choose.” 

She was quiet again, the silence filled with dishes being pulled out of cupboards. “I loved Clark. And your mother was my friend. It was difficult for both of us to see that our husbands… well, we knew that they cared for each other in a way they never could for us. And as much as it is your duty to be bound, it is your duty to carry on this line.”

Jon could feel his heart beating quickly and he stared at the ground. Of course he knew that his mother knew, he’d just never had the courage to ask her. And with the wealth of what he felt for Damian he could not imagine feeling that for anyone else. Not even partially. He hurt for her. 

“I know you think I do not like you," Lois said more softly still. “But that is not true. I see so much of your mother in you. She was strong and strict but fair. She had a large heart, and I miss her. And I know that in your heart you truly care for my son. But I know what comes after this, and I do not wish that on anybody.” 

Jon thought about turning around and going back to their room. He knew he should step out and say something, but how did he respond? He’d promised Damian the night before that he would always be with him, and he couldn’t break that now. But Damian spoke before he had to.

“I do not intend on marrying another," he told his mother. “I do not intend on betraying Jon by lying with another. I love him. I have given myself to him fully and he has to me. When I get my kingdom back, I intend on having him by my side, regardless of what that means for our line.” 

He waited, barely breathing until finally his mother said, “Then let us get your kingdom back.” It sounded like she was smiling. 

-

Bruce didn’t take it as well. Lois and Jon sat in the kitchen while Damian and Bruce shouted at each other in the back. It was pretty easy for Jon to hear exactly why Bruce thought that his son was an ignorant and silly child, clinging onto a boy instead of his duty. But Damian was just as fierce. 

“Maybe you should have!” he spat at his father. “Maybe you should have fought harder for Clark, then none of this would have happened. Saved yourself all the regret.” 

“Damian…” Jon had gotten up to head to the room, but his mother pulled on his arm and led him out of the house to go visit the herb shop with him. They spent a few hours at Ms. Isley’s as his mother and her caught up and he played a game of cards with Harley. 

“You look different," she commented as she took the card she had won from him. “Taller or somethin'. _Manlier.”_ She wiggled her eyebrows at him and he tried not to let on, but he knew his face was red when she grinned. “How's my new best friend anyway?” They talked about Damian until his mother told them it was time to go and Harely gave him a hug to pass onto Damian. 

When they got back to the house it was quiet again. The Singhs had found another home to stay in that morning with a little more room and had left the four of them to figure things out. Damian and his father were sitting at the kitchen table looking like the fight was over for now. They both looked up when they came in and Damian smiled at him, feeling the same rush that Jon did when they were close to each other. He bit his lip to keep his grin down and saw Bruce’s eyes flicker between them before he frowned and looked back at whatever he had been scribbling. 

“If this is going to work we are going to need allies,” he said, picking up where they were interrupted. “We cannot hope to fight magic without magic. We will need the Tameranians on our side.” 

“We are allies,” Damian reminded him. 

“We were allies before we denied their betrothal request.” His eyes darted up to Jon again. “And if you show up with Jon on your arm-” 

“Koriand'r knew,” Jon said and flushed when they both turned to him surprised. “She knew about the bond, and our brothers before that. She will…” he hesitated and Damian nodded at him to continue. “I _think_ she will understand.”

Bruce chewed on that for a moment. “Still…” he started. 

“We _have_ to try,” Damian interrupted. “We will not know otherwise. And the longer we wait, the stronger our enemies become.” He paused and looked at Lois. “Do you have a way to send them a message? Request a meeting with them?” 

She looked carefully at Bruce before nodding. “I do,” she agreed. “Write your message, I will make sure it gets there.” 

-

“This is stupid,” Jon muttered as the old witch pulled out his arm and measured him again. She swatted at him to keep still. He felt restless and embarrassed but Damian looked perfectly comfortable having gotten through his fitting in a few minutes. 

“It is important," Damian insisted, flipping through a new History that he had gotten from Perry. “If you are to be of royal standing then you must look the part.” 

“I am a farmer,” Jon grumbled as the witch ran a measure down his leg. 

“You are my knight. And my lover,” Damian said so casually that the witch didn’t even look up. “My consort." He smirked at that and flipped the page. "Appearance is important. Please, just humor me.” 

Jon sighed but didn’t complain as she finished and shooed them from the shop with a promise that they would be done in the morning. His mother had managed to get the message to the Princess and she sent them back in invitation to discuss the matter at hand. They would be leaving the city tomorrow to go back into the unknown, and Damian was insistent that they do it as partners. It made Jon uncomfortable. He had been told his entire life that he was at service to his Prince and now his Prince was insisting they be at service to each other. But he didn’t have the time to fight him on it. If they were leaving, they needed to be prepared, which meant they needed weapons. 

After the robe shop they stopped at the smithery. There wasn’t a lot to choose from but he picked up a dagger for himself and a few stones that he knew amplified magic. They needed a sword-- but there wasn’t anything close to what they could use there. Jon just hoped they would make it to Tameran before they needed to use it and maybe they could take one from their armory before they went to their next stop. 

They stopped at Ms. Isley’s last, gathering a handful of healing herbs to take with them on their journey. Harley was beyond excited for the adventure and begged them to let her come. But Isley reminded her that they would need someone to water all of the plants and she dropped it, seeming to think it would be impossible for anyone else to do that amount of work. 

“I will miss it here,” Jon said finally as they walked hand and hand down the street back to their part of the cave. Damian looked over at him in a silent question and Jon shrugged. “We can be open here. We do not have to hide… and magic is…” he stopped and sighed. He didn’t know how to explain it and he didn’t need to. 

Damian squeezed his hand and faced forward again. “I do not intend to hide anymore,” he told him firmly. “When we leave here, we leave together.” He kissed Jon’s knuckles and even though every part of him wanted to smile and believe it would be that simple, the knot in his stomach reminded him that their war had just started. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Magic Lube~
> 
> I forgot what this chapter was about for a moment so I reread it and I just love these two so much. Gave me a lot of emotions. I hope it gave you some too.
> 
> End of Act I.
> 
> <3 DNA


	9. Chapter 9

Damian watched as Jon pulled his shirt over his head and wiped at the sweat across his brow. He dropped the shirt on the ground next to his pack and drank from his sleeve of water. He'd been working on setting up their camp for the last hour. The sun was just past the point of bearable, but Damian didn't mind the heat. Or how Jon responded to it. Jon looked over to him and Damian smirked as he let his eyes roam Jon's bare chest.

"Should you not be paying attention to that?" Jon asked, pointing to the pot in front of him. 

"Because stirring requires all of my attention?" 

Jon rolled his eyes at him, but a light flush colored his cheeks as he went back to the small tent he was setting up. Their horses were grazing by the small stream they'd been following for the last few hours. 

As the stew started to boil Jon stepped back and looked at the lopsided tent with a hand on his hip. He turned to Damian and smiled. "I think I am getting better at this." 

He chuckled as Jon sat down next to him. "As if you could get any worse." Their first night out the tent had collapsed halfway through the night nearly smothering them in their sleep. 

Jon elbowed him and peered into the pot. "Did you remember to season it?" 

"Yes," he mumbled. Jon grabbed one of their bowls and scooped some of the stew into it. "According to the map we still have another two days before we reach the border. The Princess said that she would meet us there?" 

"That is what my mom said," Jon replied and breathed out around the steam escaping the potato he'd bitten into. 

"I think it is odd that she would meet us so far from the capital." 

"Your father did not seem to think it strange." 

"My father also agreed to let me marry an evil sorceress." 

Jon choked. And turned to Damian with an amused look, before coughing and admitting, "That is true." 

"I think we should be careful. Even if Princess Koriand'r may be our ally. Not all Tamaranians can be trusted."

"Because they have magic?" He wanted to dispute the truth of that statement, because not all of them did, but he knew that that wasn't the point Jon was trying to make. 

"Because the only person I trust right now is you." 

"We can not convince people to be our allies if you refuse to trust them." 

"I will not, but I also refuse to risk losing you because we are too trusting. If they prove themselves trustworthy,  _ then _ they will have my trust." 

Jon focused on his bowl for a few minutes. He ate his own and watched the horses. "So when we get to court what will be different?" He was surprised that Jon hadn't asked before. He'd gone along with the preparations with only a few complaints. 

"You will be announced as Prince Consort. It is important that you stand beside me. Do not step behind me. If we want people to think of us as equals we must show them." 

"But even the Queen walks behind the King." 

"I am aware," he replied flatly. "If you wish I could walk behind you."

"What. No."

"Then you will walk beside me." Jon nodded, though he still looked unsure of the idea. "Those men that were following us that first day we visited Miss Isley. You barely looked at them and yet knew they would not challenge you. Why?" 

"Because I am my father's son, and I am stronger than they are."

"You are stronger than all of these lords and ladies as well." 

"We do not know that." Jon shook his head. 

"You are stronger than them  _ because _ you will be King." 

"I am not-" 

"When we get our home back. You will be King." 

Jon didn't argue, though he still looked like he wanted to. He let Jon change the subject and answered his questions about the Tamaranian court. Jon brought up a few concerns he had about their safety. As the sun started to set and the fire dwindled down he leaned back and looked at Jon. He hadn't put his shirt back on when he'd joined him by the fire and he felt like he'd wasted an opportunity.

"Maybe I should not have gotten you new clothes. If it meant you would parade around like this." Jon blushed, but his eyes tracked Damian when he stood. He could feel them follow him around their mediocre camp while he packed away some of their things. "Maybe we could visit the lowlands and you could wear those shorts the guard wore. I remember you loved those." 

"Those were not shorts, they barely covered his-" Jon gestured over his hips. "And I feel insulted that you think that man was a guard."

"The Queen called them shorts." 

"The Queen was insane. You said so yourself." 

"She may have been insane, but she had good taste in her  _ guards _ ."

"Oh really?" Jon asked with a pout. 

"He was not hard on the eyes." Jon's knee slid down from where he'd been leaning on it as Damian stepped over his legs. "But I favor my own guard." Jon looked up at him with hooded eyes as his hand snaked up his leg. 

"You do?" Jon pulled him down into his lap.

"Shall I show you my favor?" 

Their tent fell again that night. 

-

Jon's horse jolted again as they started along the canyon path. He looked over his shoulder and Jon's eyes dropped to the river far down below and the narrowing path ahead of them. 

"Perhaps we should walk?" Jon asked. He didn't like the idea of walking their horses. 

"Hitch your horse to mine and join me." Perry had warned him that the path was rough, but the safest way for them. The only other route would have brought them too close to Gotham. They stopped and Jon did as he was told. He slid behind him. 

"Do you think our brothers ever visited Tamaran?" Jon asked a few minutes later. His chin was propped on Damian's shoulder, looking out at the canyon at their side. 

"I doubt that my father allowed it." 

"My mother told me he did not used to be as..." Jon hesitated like he was looking for the right word. "Guarded. She said that they used to travel a lot." 

"Then perhaps they did," he answered. 

"If you could travel any place where would you go?" Jon asked. His voice was light. 

Damian thought about it. "My mother wrote about a temple that her father had taken her to when she was very young. It was a sacred place for her people. A place of peace and rebirth." He closed his eyes. He'd imagined it before. The heavy stone walls, the vining flowers crawling along the surface. The evening sunlight streaming in and lighting up the inner chambers and the pools of water within. "I would like to go there." 

"Your mother wrote?" Jon asked. His voice was quiet, hurt. 

"I found letters that she had written my brother. I think it might have been when she was pregnant with him. They were places she hoped he'd get to visit. Dreams she had for him. Some advice that she wished she had followed when she was younger." 

"You never told me," Jon commented. He was definitely stung by the secret. 

"I did not want these places to be another point on a map. I spent hours looking at maps, following paths of journeys that others had taken. Imagining the sights they saw. I wanted these places to be real, not imagined. If I told you," he hesitated. "If I told you then it would be just another point on the list of places I could never go. Another place that I told you all about as we looked at a dot on a map. I wanted to-" He swallowed past the thick emotion suddenly overwhelming him.  _ We can go out there. Anywhere. _

"You wanted to?" Jon prompted.

"Go there with you," he finished weakly. "Do you remember the day we spent out at the willows?" he asked. 

"Y-yes. You were bored like I warned you." Jon shifted in the seat behind him, his hands twisted in his shirt. 

"We went to the fort that day." 

"Damian-" 

"I wanted to leave." He could feel his heart thundering in his chest. The same too big feeling that he'd felt back at the fort coming back to him. All of the uncertainty in his life falling into one solid choice, a resolution that he would not go back on. "I was going to tell my father." 

"Damian, please." 

"You-" He gripped the reins and stared down at the hands that had trembled in Jon's. He kept the horse moving, because they could not stop, not even for this. He felt Jon at his back, and knew that he'd hear him, even as he whispered. "What did you do to me?" 

Jon didn’t answer him. He knew that it wouldn’t matter if he did, Damian knew what was taken from him and no words that Jon had to say would make it better. They stayed in their silence as the sun rose higher in the sky and started to rotate west. And when they made it to even ground, Jon moved wordlessly back to his own horse and followed him further down the path. 

Neither of them spoke again until they stopped for the evening and Jon went about setting up the tent while Damian gathered wood for the fire. Jon was cutting up ingredients for their stew when he came back and walked past him without a look in his direction. And he couldn’t take the silence anymore. 

“I would do it again.” He saw Damian’s shoulders tense from where he was leaning over the fire pit. He focused on the carrots he was chopping. “I know it is not what you want to hear, but I did what I had to do to protect you and my family. I  _ am _ sorry, but if we could go back, I would do it again.” 

Damian turned on him, his eyes sharp and he hated the hurt that was in his eyes as he glared down at him. “How can you say that?” he demanded. “You  _ took _ something from me," he told him. “Just like everyone else in stupid court-- and you were supposed to be the one person who never lied to me.” 

Jon let out a hard and humorless laugh and shook his head rubbing at his nose. “How could I  _ not _ lie to you?” He asked of him. “I am magic. You remember how you felt when you found out?” Damian blinked looking like he wanted to retort but he couldn’t quite find the words to say. “I have spent my entire life hiding what I am from everyone because I knew if anyone in Gotham found out that I would be killed-”

“We would never have let them-”

“Even a King can not stop hatred.” Jon waved him off. “We would have been hunted down or burned in our beds.” He waited for Damian to tell him that wasn’t true, and when he didn’t speak he finally pushed himself up to his feet and stood in front of him. “The fear of magic and people who wield it has been a thriving force all over the land for of hundreds of years. There is a reason that my people live underground, and even though it is tolerated in some parts it is far from accepted. I have spent my entire life being told that what I am is wrong and  _ sinful _ and something that should be destroyed. I and as much as I love you, I was afraid of you. Afraid that once we left that your father would crucify mine. Or that you would see me for who I am and not want me anymore.” He swallowed. “I know what I did was wrong. I know that you did not deserve it and I  _ am _ sorry, truly, for hurting you. But it was… what I had been told to do my entire life. It was not my place to question it.” 

The fire had dimmed in Damian’s expression but it couldn’t wash the hurt away. He stood watching Jon for a moment before he rubbed the back of his neck and turned back to the wood and started to stack it for the fire. Jon wanted to touch him, he wanted reassurance that they were okay-- but they weren’t. He was unsure if it was the bond, but he could feel that a trust had been broken there and they would need time before it was mended again. Jon went back to the stew and let him have his peace. 

-

Things were still tense the next day. They spoke as they pulled apart their camp but it was only formal things, talking about what would happen when they reached the border and giving soft instructions from time to time. He changed into the new garments that Damian had made for him feeling very stiff and hot as he clasped the cape around his neck. Damian was pulling on his own, looking every bit the royal he’d been born to be in all black, but Jon didn’t let himself watch. He put the last of their belongings into their saddlebags and climbed onto his horse, waiting for Damian to do the same as they rode off. 

The remaining road was a winding one and it didn’t give them much time to speak as they attempted to navigate it more safely. It was easy to see why Gotham had asked the Tamaranians to be allies as it would be impossible to invade them. Just as the message promised, there was a woman and a small guard waiting for them at the border, however it was not the Princess that they had been promised. 

The woman in the guard was just as tall and beautiful but her hair was straight and jet black and her eyes were the same haunting purple as Raven’s. Her expression was strict and untrusting and when they approached her guard rode out to meet them in the middle. 

“Ah, the young Prince of Gotham," she said, her expression unwavering. “I am afraid my sister is stuck in court, you will have to accept me as your escort. I will need you to surrender your weapons," she told them. He saw Damian’s shoulder’s tense as they handed over their daggers and her eyes moved to Jon. “Only one guard? Rather trusting of a Wayne.” 

“Jon is my Consort," he corrected her in the same cool tone that Jon had heard a thousand times in court. It felt much different now that they were in a strange land on their own. He did his best not to fidget as she looked him over again. 

Her eyes widened in recognition. “Jon. The Kent boy?” she asked. They both sat quiet and still as she kicked her horse to ride a little further forward. She stopped right in front of him and took his face in one of her hands, turning it to the side. Damian’s jaw clenched and he felt a wild heat come through their bond. “I heard a rumor that you sucked a man into the earth with a single word," she muttered. Before he had the chance to say a word she said, " _ Gemage Kenete _ .

A plum smoke eased its way out of her fingers and wrapped itself like a muscle over Jon’s mouth and jaw making it impossible for him to open his mouth while it covered him. Damian dove at her, but one of her guards caught him. That didn’t keep him from struggling. “Take your hands off of him!” he spat at her. The guard pulled hard on his shoulder. 

Jon moved his hand out toward him and the guard that was holding him flew backwards, releasing Damian so quickly that he struggled to stay on his horse. The woman’s eyes widened and she surprised him by smirking. “My father fought with yours in the great war. He told me all my life just how strong your father had been. Called him brighter than the sun. You have his magic now. Old magic-- but your blood,” she sniffed at him. “There is new magic in you too.” She held out her hand to one of her guards and he handed her two large cuff made of smokey and dented metal. She clasped them onto Jon’s arms and all at once he felt his body grew heavy and tired, he fell forward and she laughed at Damian’s outrage. “Don’t worry little Prince. I will not hurt your  _ consort,” _ she teased him with the word. “But I am not stupid enough to let a Kent ride freely through my kingdom. Now come.” She turned her back to them and rode forward, the guard prodding them after her. 

It felt strange. Damian wasn't even sure that he knew what he was feeling. It kind of reminded him of when he'd first cut his hair. It had been long when he was younger, wavy and falling along his shoulders. One day he'd gotten frustrated and had cut a chunk off. Then panicked and the next thing he knew Jon was cutting the rest of it off. For weeks after he'd be reading and his hand would move to brush the errant locks away. But there was nothing there and for that moment he could feel the loss. He had never really been aware of his hair before, he couldn't feel it really, but as soon as it was gone he had missed it. 

There was no doubt that the bonds around Jon's hands were the cause of this absence. He wanted to tear them off and rub at his skin until the warmth was back.

As they rode single file behind the Queen and one of her guards he expected to feel the chill return. Without Jon's magic he was sure that it would return. The guard behind him whistled to himself as they rode casually down the path. 

"I hope that you are enjoying the views," the Queen said and pointed out at the land next to them. "These mountains have some of the best views of the sunset in the whole world. It is too bad we will not be staying long enough to see it."

Damian didn’t respond and neither did Jon. He wasn't even sure if Jon was taking anything in. He rocked listlessly in the saddle as the horse moved. 

"Over there is where my grandfather fought back the Golak people." 

Again they did not respond, Jon's movements and the strange feeling under his skin were raising his blood. He didn't like this. 

"That peak is the highest in this-." 

"I do not care about your history," Damian interrupted. 

"Where are your manners? Are we not allies?" She said and turned back to look at him. 

He swallowed his response to that. The trail they were following wound through the mountains and trees. He knew he had a half day ride before they'd reach the city. The city with its castle, and the guards that lived within. There had to be other people. He knew every clan and kingdom that had fought with his father in the war. He knew the one group that his father had left off the map. There were others that could help them. Others that wouldn't capture them under the guise of friendship.

Jon listlessly swayed side to side on his horse. His shoulders sagged, like an unbearable weight had been put upon them. Damian's chest ached. He watched him in silence until the ground evened out. He looked past him to the Queen before looking back at the guard behind him. The man scowled at him when he noticed his gaze. Jon tilted dangerously over and Damian rode up to nudge him upright. The eyes that met him were unfocused. Sweat dripped down his brow as he leaned against Damian. That was enough. Damian grabbed the reins of Jon's horse and the guard shouted. The horse stopped and Damian looked over his shoulder to the man as he drew his sword, but did not move forward. 

Damian felt a caress like the brush of wind and the fire within him raged. He looked to Jon, saw him pleading with him, calling out to him through their muted bond. He turned to the queen. 

"Release him."

"No," she replied with a scoff. 

"Release him and we will leave your kingdom. It is clear we will not find the ally that we were seeking here." He looked down at Jon then back to the Queen. "But know this: when Azarath comes for your kingdom, because it will, you will find no help from us. The alliance between Gotham and Tamaran ends if you do not release him now." 

"And what help could you give me, little Prince? You have no army. You have no land. You have  _ nothing _ ." The Queen turned and moved closer to him. He shifted away from Jon. 

"I will."

She laughed and his anger burst from him. He launched himself at her. She scrambled for her reins to move her horse, but he collided with her and they crashed to the ground. She gasped loudly as she struggled for breath. He could feel his wrist ache, but ignored it. Before she could react he had drawn Clark's dagger, hidden in his boot, and pressed it against her throat. She stared up at him and he felt the fight leave her. He could hear the clatter of the men dismounting, but neither of them dared to approach while he had the blade against her neck.

"You're eyes-- how?" she rasped. 

"Gotham was born of fire and stone. It rose from chaos and darkness and it's blood gave life to this land. You may call me  _ little Prince  _ but I am a Son of Gotham. The blood of the First King flows through my veins and I will have my dominion back. Now. You will give me back what is  _ mine _ and I will let you keep yours." He pressed down on the blade so she would not misunderstand him. 

She looked up at him, fear clear in her eyes, like a child pleading for safety from the monsters in the dark.  _ "Hemage Kenete, _ " she uttered. He felt some of the fire within him settle as Jon's magic flowed back to him. He heard Jon's feet hit the ground and a moment later a shield surrounded the three of them. Separating them from the guards. 

"Damian," Jon called. "Let her go." He looked down at the Queen, her eyes still wide as she looked up at him. A trickle of blood ran down her neck. He watched its descent before narrowing his eyes and looking at her eyes. She paled. 

He let up on the dagger before standing and stepping back to stand next to Jon. Jon's hand brushed against his and the rest of the fire eased. He looked over to Jon, but his eyes didn't leave the Queen. 

"Shall we leave?" Jon asked her. Damian wanted to ask him what he was thinking, of course they were leaving, but he kept quiet. He trusted that Jon knew what he was doing. "You have my word that I will do no harm to anyone here unless they first wish harm upon myself or the Prince." 

The queen stood and wiped a finger along her neck. She frowned at the blood on her finger before looking at Jon. "Word is law."

Jon nodded. "My Word." 

"You will keep your Prince away from me," she said. 

"You will not touch what is mine again," Damian replied. Jon's mouth twitched, but he didn't say anything. Her eyes narrowed on him. 

"Fine. But I will not give your weapons back to you until you have left my land. You may keep that pitiful blade." 

Damian bit back his retort that the  _ pitiful _ blade had drawn her blood. He watched her stand and collect herself. As she tilted her head back and looked down her nose at them he saw once again the Queen that had greeted them at the border. 

Jon took his hand and the shield dropped. 

"Hold," the queen said. The guards stopped, swords drawn. "Our guests were only explaining their situation to me." She looked at them. "I have his Word." 

The guard relaxed. One kneeled and helped the queen back onto her horse. Jon waited until Damian was back on his before he swung himself up. The guard rode forward protecting their queen as they continued. 

"We need them as allies." Jon hissed at him once he was sure the guard wouldn't overhear.

He looked over to Jon, but did not respond. 

-

Koriand'r was waiting for them at the gate of the castle, as were an attachment of guards. She stepped forward and they stopped. She looked between them and her sister and he saw the anger flare in her eyes. "What did you do?" she hissed. 

"I did what was right for our kingdom." 

"We invited them here as allies,  _ friends. _ " 

"And if they behave they will leave here as such. Show your  _ friends _ to their quarters. The Prince and his  _ consort _ have traveled far. I am sure they are weary." 

He felt his blood simmer at her dismissal. Jon slid down from the horse. Damian followed suit. He pulled a pack from the horse before a boy came and took the reins from him. 

Koriand'r smiled at them, it was tense and full of regret. "I am sorry," she said. 

"It was not your doing," he replied. Jon stepped next to him and they followed her down the hall. A pair of guards trailed after them. Jon held onto Damian's hand as they walked further into the castle. He kept his eyes on the Princess and the route they were taking. A few turns and Damian noticed that the Princess' feet hovered just off the ground as they moved. He stared and made a note to ask Jon about it. 

When they finally arrived at the double doors the guards stepped forward to open them and Koriand'r's feet touched the ground once more as she stepped in. "I wish I could stay and talk, but I should get back to my sister. I will come for you when dinner is ready. But rest. I am sure that you are tired." She bowed her head and stepped back out. The guards shut the door. One remained on the inside, while the other stayed outside. Damian stared at the man, but the man had that blank stare that the experienced guards had. 

"She was floating," he whispered. 

"Tamaranians get their magic from the stones around them. That is why they live in the mountains, and build their castles of great stone blocks." Jon looked tired, he sat down and rubbed his hand over his face. 

Damian pulled the bag from his shoulder without thinking and hissed when his wrist supported too much. 

"Are you hurt?" Jon reached forward and pulled him closer by his elbow. He let him look at his bruised and swollen wrist instead of answering. "What were you thinking?" 

"You were in pain. I could end it. So I did." Jon scoffed and rose to dig through the pack for a wrap. "What would have happened if we had entered the city with your magic bound? We might as well have accepted that we would never get Gotham back."

"She will not trust you," Jon said. 

"But she fears me now. And her father made sure that she feared you. Not all alliances have to come from friendship. Some come from fear of what would happen if they became a target." 

After Jon wrapped his wrist he pulled him into his lap. Damian pushed away with his uninjured arm, but Jon held on to him and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. "You went hours without my magic." Jon whispered against his neck. "Are you okay?" 

Damian realized that Jon wanted to talk without being overheard. "Yes. I never got cold," he whispered back against Jon's hair. He sighed as Jon's hands moved down his back, easing the tension he'd been carrying for the past few days. 

"Your eyes were glowing like when we bonded," Jon said as Damian pushed him back against the plush mattress. He missed his bed. He missed how easy things had been then, even though they'd felt impossible at the time. 

"I felt your magic burning inside me," he murmured and pulled at a button. "I think that is what scared her. That I might have magic that she knew nothing about." 

Jon looked up at him. "I can still feel my magic now. I should not be able to through all this stone." Jon's fingers slid up his back and into his hair. Damian kissed his neck, for real and Jon let out a slow breath. "I do not like it when you are angry with me." 

"I do not like being angry at you. But I think I will be for a while longer." He pushed up to meet Jon's eyes. "Promise me, no more lies between us."

Jon closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in to push his magic through his fingertips where they lay at the nape of Damian’s neck and pushed at their bond until he knew that Damian could feel his truest intentions. Just like he had done with Bruce in court what seemed like so long ago now. He could see the reflection of the light coming out of him in Damian’s own eyes widened at the sensation of his sincerity. 

“I never wanted to lie to you. I was scared. Now I know that I was wrong," he muttered to him, wishing more than ever that he could magic the guard away. “I will not lie to you again.” He let go of him and fell back onto the mattress staring up at the intricate stone ceiling. “But you should know there are other things I have taken. Moments from when we were children that my father washed away. Things you saw that would have exposed us. He took them because he too was afraid.” 

Damian surprised him by scoffing and climbed off of his lap, laying down next to him. “I used to think that your father was not afraid of anything,” he said softly to the ceiling. 

“Me too," Jon whispered. Damian reached out and grabbed his hand, letting the silence between them sit. “Damian… what do we do now?” 

He sighed and rolled his head so that he was looking at him. “We sleep,” he answered simply. “And if we are still alive in the evening, we attempt to convince a kingdom that we are worthy of their allegiance and their armies.”

“You are," Jon told him, squeezing more sincerity into his hand. 

A ghost of a smile whisked over Damian’s mouth but he pulled his hand away from Jon and rolled off of the bed. Jon followed suit so they could pull down the covers any attempt to get some rest before they were thrown to the dogs. 


	10. Chapter 10

A guard was sent to retrieve them right after the sun started to set. They had washed off their weeks of travel and Jon had just finished actually dressing Damian's wound and speaking a healing charm over it. The guard who had been in their room stepped forward to watch him work his magic, but he hadn't seemed concerned or afraid like Jon thought he would be. Instead he looked curiously at the pair of them as he worked. The guard stepped back when the new one came in and pretended he was just as disinterested as he had been before, but Jon could feel him itching to ask questions. Maybe they could use this. 

He started walking behind Damian out of habit before he glared back at him and Jon skipped a few steps until they were side by side. "This feels wrong," he muttered awkwardly, wondering what his father would say if he could see him walking next to a King. 

Because Damian was the King now. Everyone kept calling him Prince-- but Bruce was in no condition to rule and even if he did heal, he would never be the same. Damian was the King. Jon looked over at him, his back straight and his dark silhouette as commanding and beautiful as ever. He wanted to reach out and take his hand, but he couldn't quite make himself bridge that gap yet. So he joined his hands behind his back and did his best not to make it obvious that he did not belong there. 

The guard led them to a dining hall that was drastically large and just as empty. The only two seats that were filled had been taken by the Princess and the Queen at the very end of the table who were being poured wine. They were led to the opposite end of the table, much too far from the women to be able to have a conversation, and told to sit. Jon didn't understand but followed as Damian took his seat and their dinner was served. They ate at their own ends, mutters of the women barely reaching them. 

"I thought we were supposed to be discussing our alliance," Jon said to Damian trying his best not to stab at his food in frustration. 

"We will," Damian told him quietly. "But not tonight," he told him without looking up from his plate. "The Queen has concerns. She is not sure if she can trust me and your power terrifies her. She needs to collect herself from what happened today so that she does not show her weakness to us." 

Jon glanced down the table. "So tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow we will sit in court and oversee their daily operations," Damian said. "We need to observe how the people of Tamaran feel about their Queen. We want them on our side as much, if not more than her."

"And after-"

"After the Queen will want to welcome us properly," Damian continued. "There will be a banquet with the lords and they will examine us for weakness. They will test our resolve. They will want to know our intentions. And we will have to show them who we are." Damian looked up at him then, resting a hand on Jon's under the table. "And once they see that, they will respect that. The lords will help us push the Queen to come to Gotham's aid." 

Jon watched him. He seemed so sure. He was always sure and Jon trusted him more than anything in his life. "So we wait?" He asked, squeezing his hand. 

Damian nodded. "We wait."

-

He woke up the next morning with Damian wrapped around him and couldn't help but wonder if he would ever believe this was really happening. If he could ever get used to this. If this could be his life. Jon knew Damian was still upset with him, but in his sleep Damian was just his-- and Jon didn't want to lose one second of that. 

But he woke him anyway and they got dressed in their new robes for court. Damian put on his black tunic with silver lacing and buttons, strapping a cape on over that, while Jon struggled with the latches on his own in midnight blue. "How do you do this every day?" He demanded giving up. 

Damian swat his hands again and smirked at him. "It is a special skill," he said as he slid the latches together easily and pat Jon's chest. He struggled not to roll his eyes as he followed Damian from the room stepping up next to him without hesitation in his annoyance. They made their way to the courtroom at the front of the palace. The lords had already taken their seats along the walls. They quieted when the pair walked into the room and Damian reached out and took Jon's hand looking around defiantly. They had set two small thrones to the side of the Queen's and Princess's for them to occupy and they stopped to bow and greet them before they sat. Once they had settled they began the proceedings, leading people in by small groups. 

Damian watched in interest as they spoke, trying to see through everyone's demeanor and Jon slid his hand from his up to his shoulder. He pushed out his magic and pulled their intent out of them and back into Damian and he blinked at him just like his father had done back home. 

"You were right," Jon whispered after the first ruling had ended. "Our fathers could speak without words in court. This is what I can do." There was something in Damian's eyes that he couldn't quite understand, but he didn't get the chance to say anything before the next man stood in front of the throne. 

When they got back to their  cell rooms, he was tired. It took more than Damian expected to focus on what Jon was sending him and the words that the people were saying. There were very few that were lying. He rubbed his head as he sat down. 

"Are you okay?" Jon asked. He nodded and kept rubbing. 

"Father mentioned something." Jon looked up from refolding the clothes from their pack. Damian glanced at the guard standing in front of the door. He was the same man that had watched Jon heal his wrist the day before. "Do you get tired when you use your magic a lot?" Jon hesitated for a moment before yawning. "That is all this is." He touched his head and shrugged. "Do you have the same problem?" he asked the guard. The man seemed startled that Damian was addressing him. "When you use your magic, does it cause a strain on the body?" 

The guard shook his head. "No, your Majesty. Though I am not very strong." 

"You have magic though. So you are stronger than me." The man looked uncomfortable with that thought.

"I was told that you had magic," the man admitted and glanced at the door behind him. 

"I may hold magic, but I cannot wield it." 

"Without my stone neither can I." The man rubbed at the geometric stone sitting at his neck. 

"I have seen the Princess' stone."

"My stone is a mere pebble on the ground compared to that of the royal family." Damian watched the flicker of emotions across the man's face before they were schooled behind the mask all guards wore so well. 

Damian stood and took a step closer to the door. "Would you mind if I touched it?" The man looked at him, then at Jon. 

"I do not know if that is a good idea, Damian," Jon said, though he didn't sound too worried. 

"I apologize, did I cross a line?" He said, looking to the man. 

"No, your Majesty. You may," the man said and pulled the stone out of the prongs holding it to his armor. Damian looked over at Jon, who looked concerned, but was not stopping him. He touched the stone with two fingers. 

It was warm, warmer than the man's hand beneath it. Warm like the blanket over the cave floor, the lights reflecting off the walls, the feel of Magic for the first time. He didn't remember when he closed his eyes, but when he opened them the man was staring at him in awe. "Thank you," the man said. 

"For what?" he asked. He slid his fingers away from the stone. The man looked at Jon then back to him. 

"I should have told you before you touched the stone, but I did not think that it would work for you." He set the stone back in its space on his armor.

"What would not work?" Jon asked sharply and touched Damian's arm. 

He let Jon pull his hand to him, but looked at the man. "You saw my memory of the cave." 

The man nodded. "I have only met one person outside Tamaran that has been able to share a memory." 

"Who was it?" Damian asked, curiosity getting the better of him even as Jon touched his fingers, searching for something. 

"The Princess' betrothed. I was young, and dropped my stone. He picked it up for me, and when he handed it back for the barest moment I saw a memory. But it was nothing compared to the-" The man cut himself off and drew his shoulders back. He had realized how familiar he'd gotten with them. 

"He was my brother. We have the blood of the old Kings," he said as a way of explanation, but he wondered if that was the truth. "You say you are not strong, but to manipulate memories cannot be easy."

"Oh, I cannot. I can only see them. Those with the rainbow stones have the power to sway the mind. Though many would not dare." 

"Why not?" he asked. 

"Their stones are healing stones," the man answered. "They risk breaking their stone if harm was to come of the other person."

"Could they not get another stone?" The man looked past him to Jon. "Forgive me. I have been asking too many questions. This world is new to me. I wish to learn all that I can."

"A broken stone means a loss of your magic. Our stones are-" he touched his stone and looked at Damian. 

"I see." He glanced back at Jon. Jon's brow was furrowed. There was a knock at the door and the guard stepped out. 

Jon pulled him over to him. "You are not a stone," he said flatly. Damian grinned at him. 

The guard stepped back in and said, "The Queen has requested you attend a meeting with their Majesties before the festivities this evening. I am to take you to them in an hour."

"I have one last question for you," Damian said. The man nodded his agreement. "Why do you not use magic all the time if it does not weaken your body?" 

"My stone could not withstand it. It would crack or shatter." 

"Thank you," he said and bowed his head. The man looked flustered and bowed deeply back to him. 

Damian spent the rest of their hour putting his headache behind him and focusing on what was to come. 

-

Damian was angry. He had been angry since the woman with the ruby ignored Jon's question, but answered it when Damian asked. He pushed into their rooms before the guard could open it for him and tore off his overcoat. He threw it at the bed and paced. Three steps one way before turning and pacing back. The door was shut and their guard stood watching him while Jon moved around the room picking up the layers of clothes and jewelry that Damian discarded in fits. 

"I should not have repeated the question. It was stupid of me." 

"No, it was not," Jon said in a placating voice. He shot him a glare that Jon ignored. "You needed to know the answer." 

"I could have found out another way. By asking myself I allowed her to ignore you." 

"I am used to being ignored by lords and ladies." Damian stopped and looked at Jon. He said it so simply, like there wasn't anything wrong with that statement. "If I had told her the castle was under attack she would have listened to me." Jon chuckled and looked at the guard. Damian saw the amusement and his agreement. 

"I have never met anyone as-" 

"Pompous?" Jon supplied when Damian lost his words. 

"And ignorant of her own people. All of them could not tell me anything beyond the drama of the court." He paced for a few minutes, his feet falling in even steps that slowly calmed his boiling anger. "All of Tamaran can not be so -" He growled in frustration. 

"We are not," the guard said. 

Damian turned to look at him. "No?"

"I would show you my people, if I could." 

"Why can you not?"

"Damian," Jon warned. 

Damian turned to look at him and said, "If he goes with us then he is not disobeying his orders."

"This is not sneaking off to the fort for a day under our fathers' noses."

"I am sure it will be more fun than the  _ festivities _ we just attended. Where would you take us?" 

The man looked startled for a moment when Damian turned to him. "I know a place you would enjoy." He saw his eyes flick down Damian's attire then over to Jon. "Though you cannot wear that."

Damian held onto Jon's hand as they snuck through the halls. He couldn't stop smiling. Jon may be right, and if they got caught then they would not be the only ones punished, but he was leaving the castle and exploring a foreign city. 

Tamaran looked nothing like Gotham. He couldn't stop turning to look at things as they passed. The guard called for them and they stepped into the doorway of a brightly lit building. The door swung open and Damian saw a mass of people. 

"Ka'tham! Where have you been hiding?" The man behind the bar called with a wave. 

"My brother. Come." Damian walked forward without letting go of Jon's hand. 

"Who have you brought with you?" The bartender asked after slinging his arms over his brother's shoulders and shaking him. 

"This is Jon and-" he saw the moment of hesitation before he finished with a weak "-Damian." He had tried to refuse to call him by his given name back in their rooms when they'd finally found clothes that didn't stand out and had been ready to leave. "They are visiting. I wanted to show them a good time." 

"Then welcome! Have these!" he pushed over two cups with a dark liquid in them. "It smells like dung," he said and Jon laughed and looked up from where he'd been smelling his cup. "But it tastes like heaven." 

Damian stared at the cup that was held out to him. He touched it with his own before drinking the liquid in one gulp. He wiped a finger over his lip and kicked off the remnants of the liquid as the Tamaranians stared at him. They laughed and the bartender slapped his back. 

"I like this one. Here. Have another." Before he could drink it again the Ka'tham's hand pushed the cup back down to the bar. 

"It is meant to savor. Drink it slowly. You will be feeling the effects soon enough. Kol'tham is a scoundrel, do not trust him." 

Jon sipped at his with a wrinkled nose, but his disgust melted as the liquid touched his tongue. While the brothers argued Damian watched the people at the tables around them. He had never seen anyone so open. It did not take long for the world around him to blur at the edges. He leaned against Jon's side as they talked to everyone that came up to the bar. Most of the conversations were trivial things, curiosity over where they were from and what had brought them to Tamaran. Damian lied easily and before long people stopped asking. 

A man bumped into Jon dislodging Damian from the stool he'd been half sitting on. He squeaked as he fell and the man he'd been talking to helped him back to his feet as Jon shot daggers at the man who'd bumped him. The man stumbled off with his new drink and Kol'tham leaned over. 

"Are you okay?" 

"I am fine," he replied, taking another large swallow of the dark liquid. His stomach burned with it. 

"He just got back from the border," the man next to him said. "Fifty men left with him and only five returned." 

"The border?" Damian asked without thinking. 

"Azarath," the bartender said. 

"I did not know that you were at war," he continued. The drink made his tongue run away with him. 

"We are not. These men die to protect our lands from invasion. Without the patrol guard, Azarath would walk across our borders and our lives would be lost." 

Jon was looking across the room at the pair of men tucked into a table in the corner. Damian touched his shoulder. "Why is Azarath strong?" he asked. He had always wondered that and the more he learned about magic the more he didn't understand how a single man could be that strong. 

"The King is all powerful." 

"Gotham defeated him," he replied. 

"Gotham wounded him. Drove him back, angry and vengeful, and left us to defend ourselves," the man replied sharply. Years of anger threaded through his voice. 

"If something can be wounded. It can be defeated." 

Jon rubbed his back and Damian looked over his shoulder watching him walk over to the table in the corner. He turned back to the man for a spirited debate about the fortitude of the King of Azarath. The man stormed off when he realized that he'd lost. Kol'tham chuckled and told him that he had a wicked tongue as he gave him another glass. He didn't know how many this was, but they no longer burned as they went down. 

He smelled flowers before someone new sat on the stool next to him. "Hello," he offered with a smile as the woman leaned over the bar to take the cup offered to her. 

"I have never seen eyes like yours before," she said and touched his cheek just under his eye. 

"I have been told they are common in my mother's family." 

The woman didn't move her hand away, but caressed his cheek. "Is everyone in your family so handsome as well?"

Damian chuckled. "Thank you, my lady." Her face lit up red as he pulled her hand away. 

"You do not have to be so formal," another voice purred behind him while her hand ran up his arm. He pulled the hand from his arm, for it to be replaced by the other woman's. 

"It is not often that someone as pretty as you comes through these doors," the woman purred against his neck. "Normally we have to look at this ugly face," she jerked her head to Kol'tham who made a face at her. 

Damian laughed. "My apologies ladies, but my heart belongs to another." 

"Who?" the woman in front of him asked. Her eyes flaming with the drink and righteous anger. 

"He is over there," he said and pointed to Jon. He wasn't surprised to see Jon walking toward them. "He owns my heart and soul." 

"I would let him own me," the woman behind him mumbled and slid off the stool. "Let us go Arth'i." 

He smiled at Jon until he was boxing him in against the bar. "What were you doing?" Jon asked his voice low. 

"Nothing. We were talking." Damian leaned up. "Were you jealous?" he asked and trailed a finger up Jon's chest. He booped him on the nose and Jon's anger slid from him. He tugged him down and kissed him. "I am yours," he whispered when he pulled away. "Two more of these," he said to the bartender as he turned around. The man looked at them with a fond smile as he handed them the drinks. 

"Brother! Your friend resisted the charm of the twins." Ka'tham looked up from the table of his group of friends that he'd been drinking with for the last few hours. The table erupted in laughter at a comment one of had them made. "Many a man has been led astray by those two. Their tongues are more wicked than yours. And their hands," Kol'tham said with a shudder. Damian laughed and one of Jon's hands wrapped around him as he looked around the room. 

They drank late into the night until Damian could no longer keep his head up and rested it on the bar as he talked across the wood to the others. As people started to leave Ka'tham gripped Jon's shoulder and said it was time for them to head back. 

Jon pulled his arms over his shoulder and hauled him up onto his back. Damian put his head on Jon's shoulder and asked, "Do you remember when I could carry you like this?" 

"I remember being dropped a lot," Jon replied. 

They walked through the city. Jon followed Ka'tham closely. 

"I could assist you," Ka'tham said as they stopped outside the castle. Jon shook his head. 

"He is my burden." 

"I am not a burden," Damian grumbled. 

"You cannot walk," Jon said with a laugh. 

"I can too." He wiggled his feet as a way of showing it and Jon laughed. He hugged his shoulders. He loved Jon's laugh. "I am cold Jon," he murmured as they walked down the hall to their room. Jon stopped suddenly. "Warm me up," he whispered against his neck. 

He knew he was no help undressing himself. Jon told him as much every time his hands got in the way. He was stripped down, redressed in sleeping clothes, and set in the bed. He whined loudly when Jon didn't join him and he heard the quiet laughter of the guard. 

"You are angry with me, remember?" Jon replied. 

"I will be even angrier if you do not-" Jon put his hand over his mouth. He continued even with his words muffled and Jon's face brightened with a smile. 

"You are insufferable." Jon kissed him when he removed his hand. Then stood. "Go to sleep. If you are still cold in the morning let me know." 

-

"I have been poisoned," he whined when Jon woke him up. "Leave me to die." Jon chuckled and kissed his forehead. He felt the pressure pounding beneath his lips ease and let out a soft breath. 

"Are you still dying?" Jon asked. 

"Yes." When he looked over it was not Ka'tham, but the other guard. He was smiling and Damian felt like he'd won something even after the disaster that was the ball. 

\---

Jon let Damian sleep longer than he should have, but he knew that he would be miserable the second that he woke up. He went about getting ready, washing his face and tying his tunic before slipping on his overcoat that was still difficult to get used to. Only when he could busy himself with nothing else did he walk around the bed to Damian and brush the hair off of his forehead. 

"He loves you." Ka'tham was standing in front of the door watching him so silently that Jon had almost forgotten that he was there.

Jon looked back down at Damian who hadn't even stirred at his touch. "He does," he said softly and smoothed his hair again. "Every part without question," he told the guard as he looked back up to him. "And I him."

Ka'tham looked as though he was struggling with something. Like he'd been charmed with a gag spell when he finally said, "I heard tale that the Kings of Gotham were no friends to magic. Even with it right under their noses. Your father," he hesitated, eyes full of apology. "And I mean no offense," Jon nodded for him to continue. "Has been considered a traitor to our kind since the great war. All the power in the world and he chose to use it against his kin…" he trailed off. "I am sorry. I heard of his death. I do not mean to speak unkindly of the dead." 

Jon shook his head and spoke past the burn in his chest. "I know my father had his faults," he told him. "Just as Damian's had his." It felt strange to speak of Bruce like he was dead, but he wanted everyone to know without question that Damian was the King they would be following. "But when Gotham was sieged Damian came with me. He followed me blindly with trust and love knowing exactly what I am. He is not his father and I am not mine. We just want to save our people. And if you will let us, we can help you." 

Ka'tham blinked, taking a step back looking startled as he urged him to continue. "My Lord?" 

"My mother used to grow sunflowers rooted in the new magics. There is a way to store energy within them and create a shield. We could grow them at your border and save your men from the devastation that-" there was a knock on the door and Ka'tham struggled to slide his mask back on before he went out to answer the call. Jon went back to Damian and woke him, and when he locked eyes with Ka'tham when he slid back in, he was smiling. 

-

Court was just as boring as it was the day before. Jon didn't bother sharing the feelings of the people, he focused on the Queen herself. She was cold. And when they left court at break he felt a chill in his bones that had nothing to do with his bond. 

They walked past the guards as they sparred in the courtyard and stopped when one of them successfully made a cage of the earth and locked his opponent away in it. They bickered with each other and a few laughed as the man in the cage shouted curses and demanded to be let go. 

Damian laughed and the guard straightened up when they noticed they were being watched. They stood at attention as Damian approached and looked to Ka'tham but he seemed as surprised as Jon was that they had gone this direction. 

"That was fantastic," Damian said to the men in the center of the ring. "Do you alway spar with magic?"

"Ah, y-yes your majesty," the guard in the cage said, looking embarrassed. 

"Does that not exhaust your gems?"

They blinked, surprised that he seemed to know that. "It helps us expand on our limitations," Ka'tham replied for them. "Like stretching a muscle." He turned to Jon with a little spark of amusement. "Perhaps you would like to try, my lord?"

Jon let out a laugh and shook his head as Damian said, "Yes, I believe that he would." And turned on him with a little smirk. Jon glared at him and unlatched his cape, handing it over along with his overcoat so that he was in just his pants and tunic. Damian's eyes lingered on the tie of his shirt before he moved out of the sparring space. 

Jon stepped up and rolled his neck wondering what kind of ability they would be able to use on him. It had been a while since he had been able to use his magic to actually fight someone and he knew he was rusty. None of the guards seemed to want to step up to him, there were murmurs running around them and the man in the circle was still in the cage. It was bright out. The sun ran up Jon's skin and he held his hand out. " _ Getaza, _ " he told the earth and fell like liquid back into place as the men watched wide eyed. Jon smiled, the thrum of magic running through him felt good with the sun on his skin. He looked back at Damian and saw the same burn in his eyes before he turned back to the guard. Only one of them stepped forward to challenge him. 

He took a fighting stance and Jon waited as the gem in his chest pushed off heat. He smirked and rushed him, the gem turning his armor to a liquid that shaped the metal of his armor until his arm was a pike. Jon skid under the stab and grabbed his foot. The man stumbled, unable to stop and fell flat on his face. " _ Zasahe _ ," he muttered to the metal and ice leaked out of his fingertips until the armor was too cold to move. He pushed himself up and let out an amused breath that came out in a cold cloud. He hadn't even had to think about the magic before it came to him. He'd never felt that before. He grinned wildly at Damian who was biting his lip to his own smile. 

"How did you do that?" The guard demanded when Jon thawed him and helped him to his feet. 

"You take too much time to gather your magic," Jon told him. "I have had to fight Damian my entire life. No magic, just constantly getting my ass handed to me. It has taught me to think more quickly, to pull what is easiest and uses the least amount of energy." 

"Show me," he demanded and then seemed to remember himself as he flushed and bowed. "Please, my lord. If you have time." 

They missed the second half of court, spending that time in the courtyard running drills with the guards and answering their questions. A few of them had parents from Gotham and in the Hidden City that knew Jon's mother. A few of them had parents that worshiped the new gods as well. 

Jon told them about the stories of the new gods and how they shaped the kingdoms with rage and love and grief and how those emotions stayed in the soil, planting magic into the roots. They listened as he spoke and pulled a sunflower from the ground like his mother used to. He didn't know how long they were there for, Damian showing the guards easy maneuvers and Jon telling them about the culture they had been locked away from. But it was dark when they headed back to their rooms. Ka'tham walked further behind them than Jon knew he should be, offering them privacy. 

Jon was surprised when he didn't walk into the room after them, instead staying just outside the door. "Guard change will be in just under an hour," he told them. "I will give you privacy while you freshen up for supper."

"I have never experienced anything like that before," Jon gushed as soon as the door shut behind them. "All of those people, doing magic and learning together. I feel like we could really help-" 

He was cut off by Damian's mouth and his hands carding roughly through his hair as he held him there. When he let go, Jon's eyes were wide but Damian was laser focused. "Take off your pants," he told him gruffly. 

"B- but you are mad at me," he reminded him too quietly. Damian had sucked all of the air out of him. 

"I do not care." Damian pulled the shirt over his head and crawled onto the large bed, kicking his shoes off as he went. It only took Jon's brain a minute to catch up before he was pulling his own tunic over his head and climbing over him. Damian's fingers dug into the skin of his shoulders while Jon bit at his pulse, tracing it up to his ear. 

Jon ground against him as he whispered how beautiful he was, how amazing he looked out in the courtyard. How much Jon had wanted to drag him away and take him in a deserted corridor where he would have to swallow his groans. Damian pulled him back to his mouth, his tongue more vicious than before and just as sharp as barkeep had accused the night before. 

Jon was surprised when Damian rolled them, looking down at Jon with a weight that he seemed unsure how to express. He reached up and cupped his face, soothing his troubles with the tender caress of his thumb. "What is it?" Jon asked softly. 

Damian took a deep breath and caught Jon's wrist, holding his hand in place. "You looked so alive today, talking about your culture. Saying things you never told me." Jon's heart ached at that. "I know why, but that is not an issue any longer and… I want to know everything. I want to be a part of your world, as you are the whole of mine." 

Jon curled up and kissed him, softly as he could as he wound his arms around him. "I will tell you everything. Anything that I know, whenever you would like to hear it."

A smirk curled up on Damian's lip and he pushed the hair off of Jon's forehead. "Even when I least want to hear it," he amended. 

"Oh, especially then," Jon agreed and laughed when Damian pinched at his side and they fell back onto the bed. 

By the time Ka'tham knocked on the door Damian's lips were numb and he couldn't stop smiling. Ka'tham looked over to the bathroom where Jon had run as soon as they'd heard the knock. He already knew that when he asked Jon why he ran that he would wrinkle his nose and tell him that Ka'tham would know what they were doing. Like Damian sitting shirtless in the middle of the bed wasn't clear enough. 

"I thought only grap'ta could make you smile like that," Ka'tham said with a grin. Damian grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head. 

"Do not mention that horrid drink," he replied and held his stomach. Ka'tham chuckled, but his expression smoothed when his replacement knocked and he opened the door. It was the man from the cage. 

"It is you," he said with a chuckle. Ka'tham slipped out with a low bow to him. He tilted his head and Ka'tham grinned before the door shut. 

"There was a fight for this duty. I was victorious." Damian grinned at the smug look on the man's face and called for Jon. Jon was fully dressed and the tips of his ears were red with useless embarrassment. 

"F'drin!" Jon said. They spent most of the evening talking with the guards, the other man outside the door joined them after the sun had set. He asked question after question, confirming what he'd learned the day before while listening to the men expand on things he didn't quite understand. Jon seemed just as interested. The differences in their magic bringing a fire into his eyes. 

His father had not taught him much about Tamaran. He wondered if it was because he did not know much about it. Their court ran much like Gotham's, but the families rose and fell as their stones came and went. The only stone that remained consistent was the royal stone. 

When Ka'tham came to relieve the others he explained that he was in the castle guard because he had an affinity with the stone. His brother, Kol'tham, had no affinity. Magic flowed within his veins as it did for all Tamaraneans, but without the stone to channel it he could not use it. With each year the number of children who had the affinity dwindled as the men died on the border. He could see it coming slowly. Years from now, maybe even within their lifetime Tamaran would no longer have men to send to the border, would no longer have people who could use their magic and their land and history would be lost to Azarath. 

"Your Majesty," Ka'tham said, and Damian looked up. However it was not Damian he was addressing, but Jon. Damian's heart pounded in his chest when Jon looked away from F'drin. "I spoke with one of our generals. He wants to know more about the sunflowers before the matter is taken before the Queen." 

"I-I will gladly speak with him." 

"He should be available now," Ka'tham said. 

Their friendly group broke up and they followed behind their guard to the rooms of the general. Damian squeezed Jon's hand and smiled up at him. He knew that his smile was wild, but he couldn't control it. Jon's hand squeezed him back, insecurities still filling his eyes. 

-

While Jon explained how they could use the flowers, the general let Damian look at the maps they had of their land. It was the most detailed map he'd ever seen of Azarath. There were areas of population that Gotham hadn't had marked. 

"How long has the border looked like this?" he asked when Jon had finished talking. 

The general turned back. Damian pointed to the towns dotting the border maybe half a day's ride away from Tamaranean land. 

"The first village popped up almost two years ago. The second a year after that. They are not villages though. They are barely more than barracks. Our scouts have never seen women or children, only men, soldiers waiting for their orders." 

"How long do you need to grow your flowers?" Damian asked. 

Jon looked at the map and back to Damian he could see him calculating how much time he would need. "I can start a patch today, it can be encouraged to grow quickly." 

Damian looked at the general. He tapped a spot on the map. "There is a land bridge here, correct?" 

"It is underwater," the general said. He could see the gears in his mind start to turn and when he met Damian's eyes he could see the fear. "Yes. When the second moon rises and the channel empties it will no longer be underwater." Damian looked to Jon. They had a time limit now. "They are waiting for the bridge to be revealed. They will attack before the year is finished." 

-

They spent the rest of the day arguing with Komand'r. She stared at the maps, he knew that she saw it. He knew that she was afraid, but he knew that this was her land, her kingdom, and he couldn't make her guard her border any more than she already was. 

"Leave us," he ordered. The lords and servants that had been walking around the room dispersed, but it was a wave of Komand'r's hand that had the general and the guards slipping from the room. The Princess sat next to her sister as Jon stood next to him. She watched her sister, barely a year older than her, but with the weight of an entire kingdom on her shoulders. He could see how much she wanted to help her hold that weight.

"Komand'r," he said softly. She looked up at him. "I know that you are afraid. I know that our fathers have buried that fear deep in your heart, but I am not my father as Jon is not his. We will help you to protect your land. We will return with an army. We will defeat the Demon King. I can promise you this. Or I will spend the last of my breath fighting to make it true. But for now, let Jon teach your soldiers. Let us protect you." He looked her in the eye. "We will not let Tamaran shatter." 

"Fine," Komand'r breathed. 

"Thank you," he said and bowed deeply. She tilted her head and he grabbed Jon's arm. 

-

They rode for the border the next morning. They didn’t take much, just a change of clothes and whatever farming supplies that Jon could find, which was surprisingly little. The majority of the town was made out of rock and they had food and grain shipped from smaller villages outside of the castle. Ka’tham assured him that they could stop in one of the smaller villages on the way to where their men were stationed. 

It felt good to be back in his own clothes, out of royal dress where the sun could hit his skin. He closed his eyes for a while, letting his horse move to follow the others on his own as he soaked in as much of the warmth as he could. Damain was watching him when he opened his eyes and Jon smiled unabashed. It was like leaving the inner city had lifted a dark vail off of him and he was finally free to simply be who he was. 

Damian had a more difficult time shirking the city from his shoulders. His forehead creased as he lost himself to what Jon was sure was a slew of battle plans and tortured thoughts should the worst happen. Jon let him be until they reached the small village Ka’tham had spoken of and then he pulled Damian along with him to find the supplies needed to start the growth. Damian accepted every tool that Jon handed to him without a word, and he could see the curiosity beating out whatever thoughts he had been battling over. Jon couldn’t help but smile at him. Damian had never seen him use the magic of his mother before, at least not really. 

“Do you not require seed, Your Majesty?” Ka’tham asked as they tied the tools to the horses. 

“No,” Jon shook his head. “The earth provides the plant, we simply coax it out.” Damian looked skeptical. “You do not believe it possible?”

Damain let out a hard laugh. “I think you have proven to me over the last number of weeks that you can make anything possible.” He pursed his lips. “I just do not understand how it works.” 

He sounded so frustrated when he said that, like not knowing somehow made him weak or ignorant. And not for the first time Jon thought about how much Damian had thrown himself into Jon’s culture, sapping up every piece of information that he could from others so that he could better understand him. 

There was a little ping of guilt in his chest. He had not been a very good teacher, his father had always made everything seem so easy with his words… but could Jon do that? It didn’t matter if he thought he couldn’t. He was about to be the teacher to a handful of magicians relying on this new magic to save their men and their kingdom. Suddenly the sun wasn’t as welcoming as it had been, but he did his best to shake it off. 

They tied all of the tools to Jon’s horse and then tied his horse to Damian’s. Jon climbed onto the back of Damian’s horse and they set off. They were riding for a good while before Jon spoke. “You know how old magic consists of words?” He asked softly just for Damian to hear. He felt his back straighten against his chest. “Well new magic is more of an art. The old gods needed structure to create the world but the new gods painted it with an abundance of emotion. Old magic is something you can teach but not everyone can use… new magic is something all mages can touch, but it is harder to control.” He kissed behind Damian's ear and he could feel him smile though he could not explain how. “You will not be able to help me cast my spell, but you will be able to help me paint it.” 

The idea seemed to excite Damian and Jon spent the rest of the ride answering what he could of his questions, though it was difficult. His mother had taught him new magic. His father had been able to wield it, but only through his mother’s instruction. And his mother taught in a very different way than his father. She made Jon feel for things, and that wasn’t something he could show Damian while they were on a horse. 

They reached the camp just before sunset and whatever the mood had been on the trip over was wisped away. It was a waste land, covered in scorch marks and deep rust set soil filled with the blood of Tameranian and Azarathi soldiers alike. Jon wasn’t sure what he had expected, but he had not prepared himself for this. He knew that if his father were here, he would tell him that this is the way of men and not to dwell on it. But he had never seen a plot of land look so barren and dead. 

“I have never seen a place that felt more rot with devastation," he muttered as he dismounted, surprised that the ground was still soft at his feet. 

Ka’tham nodded. “This place has seen more than its fair share of bloodshed. Many believe that the magic in this land is all but gone.” 

“It is still here,” Damian said, surprising them both. He frowned when he turned to Jon. “I think I can feel it?” 

He gave Damian a small smile and nodded. “The blood has soaked into the soil, but there is still magic underneath,” he agreed. “We can make it grow.” 

They followed Ka’tham to the barracks that were built around a hundred yards away from the water. There were only a handful of men there, maybe thirty of them and they all had a gaunt look in their eyes, their skin pale. Jon wished that he had thought to look through the apothecary in the village they passed for roots and herbs to warm them. But, as it was, they were happy to see them all the same--if not a little weary of the orders that had come in a letter that had beaten them there.

They tied their horses in the stable and unloaded their supplies. Once they were shown to their part of the camp and their things were put away, Damian announced that he was going to walk to the border and Jon stood to go with him. Ka’tham moved to stand as well, but Damain put a hand on his shoulder. 

“You should rest. Jon is all the protection I need,” he assured him and they exchanged nods as they passed. 

The water that covered the river was cold and wild. Running downstream at a rate that could sweep a dragon to its death. They stood at the edge of it and stared at the looming black wall that was the dark lands on the other side. Just far enough away that an arrow would not reach them. 

“It is strange," Damian said after a moment. Jon looked over to him but his eyes were still cast out over the water. “To think that twenty years ago, our father’s stood here, preparing for battle.” 

Jon blinked, he hadn’t thought about that. He looked down at the ground where his own feet were planted and for the smallest of moments he saw his father there next to him. His chest hurt. “I wonder what they were thinking about. If they ever regretted their decision to fulfill their duty to their kingdom rather than to themselves.” 

“I am sure they did,” Jon said into the quiet after the river rushed the question away. “When your marriage was announced I felt like the air had been sucked out of my lungs. Even if it was for duty, I do not know if I could be with anyone else the way that I am with you.” He took Damian’s hand and Damian finally looked away from the dark wall. 

“I do not know how to be a king, D. It is not something I ever wanted. But I will do it for you. I would do anything you ask of me. And not because I am honor bound to do so, but because you are the most inspiring man I have ever known. The way you have accepted me, my magic, and inspired these people… If our fathers could see us now I do not think they would have any less regret, but I know they wouldn’t change a thing.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably my favorite chapter so far. Hope you guys liked it too. Let us know what you thought.
> 
> -DNA


	11. Chapter 11

Jon woke before the sun the next morning and headed out to the waterfront with a rake in hand. He spent a few hours tossing the soil, doing what he could to open it before he started to dig. He sunk his fingers into the ground and closed his eyes, feeling for the break that would let him pull the magic forward. He could feel it pulsing just underneath, he just had to reach out and take it. Damian found him there as the fires of the camp started to wake with the men, kneeling in the dirt, light pulsing through his fingertips. He was sweaty and exhausted, having started before there was warmth to replenish him, but he smiled when Damian stopped in front of him, right on the spot where Jon had found the break. 

“You look happy,” Damian accused, eyes narrowing as he handed him a water skin, already open, the command silent between them. 

“I am always happy to see you,” he said and accepted taking a long drink before he handed it back. “Come here, I want you to feel something." Damian frowned but kneeled next to him. Jon grabbed his hand and pushed his fingers into the ground where his hand had just been, leaving his own on top of Damian's. “Close your eyes,” he told him and waited for Damian to follow his order before he closed his as well. The sun was up, warming his bare back and it was much easier when he sent a new pulse into the ground. The break responded by heating the soil at their hands. 

Damian stiffened. “What was that?” he demanded, his voice hitching slightly. His eyes were wide when Jon opened his. 

“New magic.” He grinned before he lifted his hand off Damian’s and stood. He grabbed the rake and flipped it around, going to the spot Damian had first stopped on. He drew a rune, the one that meant release, and when he touched his hand to it there was a grumbling shift in the soil. It rolled around them, shifting itself like a ripple in a pond. He could hear the shouts of concern from the camp but kept himself concentrated on the drain. He met Damian’s eyes and they were glowing, bright and as green as emeralds as the rust of the ground gave way to a rich dark gold. 

The shifting stopped, but Damian’s expression didn’t change. He pushed himself up and stumbled slightly. Jon stepped over to catch him. “I… you… that was--” 

“Your Majesties!” They looked over to Ka’tham and a few others who had rushed out to meet them. They looked out of breath having sprinted from the camp. “The earth shook and we thought…” He trailed off when he saw the turned and new earth around them. 

“It is fine," Jon assured him. “The gods have given us their blessing. Our shield will grow.” 

It wasn't until the sun was high in the sky that they rested. Jon was pushing well past his limit if the headache building behind Damian's eyes was anything to go by. He resisted the urge to go and press himself to Jon's side, to feel his skin under his fingers and be relieved. Instead he sought out a few of the men. They welcomed him with stiff smiles. 

"How is it coming?" he asked. He knew that some of the men had gotten close. He had seen it in their eyes as they reached out and touched the magic of the earth that Jon had shown him that morning. But he also knew that none of them had grasped it. Jon was teaching magic that needed no words to mages who lived by the structure of their stones. 

"He asks for the impossible," one of the men admitted. 

"I have seen the flowers, they have protected my family since I was born." He looked to the men. They did not look reassured. They were not Kents, he could see them think. He shook his head. "Because something is difficult does it mean it is impossible?" 

One of the men shook his head. 

"Are you born with your stones?" he asked. He knew the answer to it, but he asked anyway. 

"No, your majesty," one of the men answered with a huff of a laugh. "We are sent into the mountains in the spring of our tenth year. Some of us return with stones, some do not."

"How do you find your stones?" 

"They call out to us," a second answered. 

"But they are stones," he replied. "They have no mouths, they have no arms." The men looked at each other. "Is the magic within your stones so different from the one you are reaching for within the earth?" 

"You have magic, do you not?" one of the men asked. 

"I do not," he replied. 

"But I saw your eyes this morning," the same man replied. 

"A reflection of Jon's, not my own." The men murmured to themselves until one turned with a new question in his eyes. 

"Trol'nyt said you are skilled with a sword." 

"He exaggerates," Damian said, but was challenged to a match before he could talk himself out of it. He managed to fend for himself for a while. But these were not guards, strictly trained and obedient. These men were soldiers, they'd seen battle, and survived. He parried a blow, but before he could brace he was on the ground with his breath rushing from his chest. He had not done much wrestling outside of his bedroom, and Jon was never trying to hurt him. He threw a wild punch, mostly to give himself a moment to catch his breath. But that punch was answered by a blow to his face. 

The man helped him to his feet after he had acquiesced his loss. He sat down and leaned against the table, nursing a bloody nose as the men laughed around him. "You fight well for a Prince." 

"For a Prince?" he asked. "And if I were one of you?"

"You might make it to the second level," a man said with a grin. 

"You wound me," he replied with a laugh. "I nearly beat you." 

"Your blood on my sleeve says otherwise." He laughed and the men teased him for the rest of the break. 

When Jon called everyone back to the broken earth they groaned and packed up the remains of their lunch. 

"You found your stone. You will find this too," he called after the group. He stayed back and helped straighten the camp. When the men came back they were in higher spirits, their eyes were bright and one of them held out a flower barely larger than his pinky finger to Damian. He accepted it with a congratulations. When Jon joined him he was smiling. 

"They said you helped?" 

"I do not know about that. They did it, I just offered an alternate viewpoint." 

"Already your eyes are bruising," Jon commented and touched his face. 

"I lost well for a Prince," he said with a chuckle. He leaned into the feel of Jon's hand on his cheek, the warmth of his thumb as it ran over his skin. "Perhaps a kiss will make it better," he said and grinned.

"You are ridiculous," Jon told him, but kissed him anyway. A raucous sound burst from the tents and they turned to see a group of the soldiers laughing and cheering. 

"Come join us, your Majesties," Ka'tham called, elbowing a few of the men into submission. 

Jon pulled him back to the camp and the fires placed throughout. Food and drink was passed through the groups. He smelled the Grap'ta and passed it onto the next man. As the drink outnumbered the plates of food, the men's questions took a new turn. 

"Have you lain with a woman?" one of the men asked. Jon's shoulder was draped over his and his cheeks were pink from the drink that the men hadn't let him avoid. Damian had managed to escape their attention, he had also slipped a few of the drinks meant for him into Jon's hands. 

"I have not," he replied. "Have you lain with a man?" he asked back. 

"When I was much younger," the man answered with a hearty laugh. 

"Is it very different?" he asked of honest curiosity. 

The man blinked a few times, trying to think of his answer through the haze of the grap'ta. 

"But you could have any Princess or lady you wanted," another man called half crawling over one of his comrades to get closer. 

"I have only ever wanted Jon," he replied. 

"What is it like to bed a royal?" Someone called. He turned to look at Jon, waiting for the answer as Jon's face heated. 

"Yes, Jon. How is it?" The men snickered, but the crowd grew quiet as they waited for his answer. 

"It is nice," Jon replied. 

"Nice?" Damian repeated in a flat tone. The men started laughing. "I am sorry, but I cannot let that insult stand." He stood and pulled an unsteady Jon to his feet. " _ Nice." _ The group parted as they walked. 

Jon half stumbled, half fell into their tent. "Is it truly only nice?" he asked as he crawled over Jon to rest in his lap. 

"It is too much for one word to capture," Jon said as his fingers trailed from Damian's hair down his jaw and neck. He closed his eyes and leaned to kiss Jon. 

-

"Did you have a  _ nice _ night your Majesty?" one of the men called as he stepped from their tent. 

"I did," he replied with a laugh. 

"Could you not hear?" Another whispered. When he looked back to Jon he could see him blushing furiously and his eyes wide on Damian. He pulled him out before he could barricade himself within their tent. 

He sat down carefully to the sound of the men snickering or outright commenting on his state. The men pat Jon's back and shoulder as he walked to get them food. 

Damian accepted the easy ribbing. It was better than he ever imagined their reception would be. They'd lived the last few years afraid of what anyone finding out about them would mean. But these men, who weren't even theirs, didn't care. They laughed and joked and teased like they were one of them, like it was any relationship, and he couldn't believe it. 

Jon led the men back out. He sat on the edge of their camp and went over the maps. He traced paths that he and Jon could take, planned and replanned their routes. They had no time to waste. He set aside the map he'd brought with them and poured over the ones that he'd brought from the capital. 

"Your Majesty, Jon is calling for you," Ka'tham tilted his head. He was one of the only men who still treated them with any of the court manners. He thanked him and looked one last time at the future battleground laid out before him. 

Jon stood in the middle of a field of sunflowers. He was smiling and Damian could feel the warmth of their magic flowing through the bond. The men were sitting on the edge, a few of them looked like they had worked an entire day and not just half of the morning. He saw a few touching the seedlings as they sprouted. 

"Amazing," he breathed as he walked out into the flowers. A few of them had reached his knees. He was careful not to step on any as he made his way to Jon. As soon as Jon touched him it was like lightning sparking under his skin. Jon tucked his head against his neck and laughed. 

"I cannot believe it worked." 

By the end of the day they had a full field covering the battleground. Men worked in shifts spreading the flowers until they stretched far enough that Damian had to turn to see where they ended. 

He walked along the edge, hand brushing the flowers that were nearly to his hip. "This will work," he told Jon. 

"It will," Jon agreed. They'd tested the shield earlier that day and the men had been amazed. He remembered staring at the arrow as Clark's shield stopped it and knew what they were feeling. 

-

"You are leaving us?" Ka'tham asked that night as Jon packed a few things for them. Damian had the maps spread out and was going over them again. 

"We are," he answered. Jon stopped and looked at them. "But we will be back." 

"By yourselves?" The man asked and looked to Jon. "I would come with you." 

Damian glanced back at Jon, at a loss for words as he realized that he had this man's loyalty. "You are needed here. We need someone that we trust to keep the men together. To protect the flowers." Jon put his hand on Ka'tham's shoulder. "We need someone who will look for us when we return."

He saw him nod and accept Jon's words and with a bow, he slipped away. 

"I am not his Prince," he told Jon once they were alone. "Why-" 

"You have earned his loyalty." Jon stepped forward. "You have earned all of these men's loyalty. They talk about you as we work. Most of them have never seen any of their royalty. They send them out to die and sit at their parties. But you dine with them, you joke and accept their teases. You sport the bruises they give you," Jon touched the edge of his black eye. "You work alongside them. They respect you." 

"I am not their Prince," he repeated. He hadn't ever thought that anyone would follow him for something other than his station. 

"They would have you be their king if they could will it." Jon lifted his chin. "You are not the Prince any longer. You are a King." Jon caught him up in a kiss as his words struck deep.  _ King _ . But he wasn't the King. Not yet. Jon pulled back and their eyes met. Jon looked so sure. He pulled him back in. He would be- when they got their home back. 

\---

The only way to Themyscira was through a mountain pass. It was small and suffocating and there would be hardly any way to deflect attack while they were in it. Jon watched as Damian and Ka'tham tried to plot around it. But the path only led them closer to Gotham and farther from where they needed to be. "If only the river ran the other way." Jon muttered as he paced behind them. He had spent too long in the field and his head was pounding. He knew that Damian had to be feeling it too. "Now the only options we have are a death trap and a longer death trap." He huffed, blowing a stray curl out of his face. 

Damian reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping him from pacing. Relief rushed through the bond to soothe his headache and he let his eyes flutter shut. When he opened them again he sat down next to him and pulled his knees up to his chest. "You should go lay down," Damian told him softly, caressing his cheek. "You have used too much magic today."

Jon shook his head and scooted closer. He laid his head on his shoulder and after a brief stop in the conversation, they continued as if they hadn't stopped. He listened to them plot a path until it was decided. The pass was the only option. They would have to make it through in a day if they wanted to make it to the other side relatively unscaved. He opened his eyes and watched as Ka'tham rolled up the maps before he left them to check on supper. 

Damian waited until he had completely gone to speak. "I don't think I have seen you this irritable in a while," he offered opening the door for Jon to admit what was really bothering him. 

He sighed and pulled his head up so that he could look at him. "The mountain pass is deeply shaded," he told him. "I will not be able to protect us long if there is an attack." 

Damian put a hand on the back of Jon's neck and pulled him in, pressing his forehead into his. "There will not be."

"You cannot know that."

"I can," Damian told him with a fierce glint in his eye. "We have already made it this far. I have to believe there is a reason for that. That we were… I do not know, destined to?" He pulled back and held Jon's face in his hands, "It is only a few steps more. Will you go with me?" 

Jon closed his eyes and held Damian's hand to his face. "Of course I will," he promised and was rewarded with a kiss. 

-

Damian was talking to a few of the guard when they had finished tying their packs to their horses. They had been planning their journey for a few days, but now that it was finally here, Jon couldn’t help but want to stay. It had been so long since they had felt any kind of peace. It was difficult to let go of that. He checked his knots once more as he waited for Damian to say his goodbyes and when he heard a small, “Sire," from behind him he didn’t turn thinking surely they must be speaking to Damian. 

So he was surprised when the man tapped his shoulder and he turned to face a group of ten men, looking at him with a mixture of expressions that he could not place. Jon blinked as a hand was extended to him and they grasped forearms. The man smiled at him, but his eyes stayed serious as he said, “We will not forget all that you have taught us.” A mutter ran through the group around him of agreement. 

Another man with blond hair, Rap'ko, stepped forward and held out a small box to him. “It is not enough for what you have done, but please accept this," he told him kneeling before him. 

Jon looked back at Damian who was watching him now with Ka’tham and Ga’bren who seemed just as surprised as he was. He reached out very carefully and opened the box to see a golden chain that held a dust set golden stone with crackling orange viens hugging it’s surface. “It is a sun stone, sire," the first man explained to him. “From one of our fallen. Since the ground has turned over it has begun to grow warm. No one outside of our own people has held a Tamaranian stone for centuries.” 

“I...I cannot accept this,” Jon said feeling very suddenly overwhelmed by what this offering meant. 

“I am afraid that you do not have a choice, your Majesty.” Ka’tham smiled from where he was next to Damian. “We do not get to choose our stones. When they are ready, they find us. It appears that this stone has decided it’s next life belongs to you.” 

Jon swallowed and looked back to the group then he reached out and pulled the amulet up by the chain and pulled it over his head. It was lighter than he thought it would be and sat warm, almost hot on his chest. The men all cheered and he grinned shyly as he thanked them for their generous gift wondering what his father would say if he could see this. 

It only took a few hours for them to make it out of the Valley to the mountain side that followed the river, traveling against the current. As soon as they got into the shadow of the mountain he could feel the stone heat his sternum. It was almost uncomfortable, but not enough to move it. Though it did nothing to ease his nerves as the sun was blocked by the pass. Damian didn’t seem worried. He had been in high spirits since they left. Jon wasn’t sure what Ka’tham and Ga’bren had said to him, but whatever it had been, the anxiety he’d had for the last week seemed to be falling away. 

They rode in silence until the sun set and they stopped in a rounded part of the mountain that was alongside the water. It wasn’t quite a cave nor an overhang-- but it was enough to give them the security they needed to make camp. They didn’t bother with the tent. It was a clear night and warmer than it had been in days. They tethered the horses to a tree and Damian laid out their blankets against the stone while Jon made a fire. He stood next to the fire as it grew and let the warmth wash over him until his entire body felt like the stone at his chest. He walked over to the pallet and laid down next to Damian who was staring up at the sky. He wrapped himself around him wondering what was causing him to feel so ill at ease. Damian rubbed a hand up his back but didn’t say anything, allowing Jon to stew in his own dread until finally he admitted, “I have a bad feeling about this journey.” He said it soft enough that it was nearly a whisper. 

Damian didn’t respond right away. “I would be more worried if you had none,” he said back softly and held him closer. Jon looked up at him, watching as the stars reflected off of his eyes. “But we have faced hardship before. I have no doubt we will run into troubles. But this time we will be better prepared.” 

The bad feeling clenched in his stomach but he just nodded against Damian’s shoulder. He wanted to believe him and he had absolutely no reason not to. He did his best to push it down and just enjoy the moment of peace and ignore the sour feeling in his stomach. 

But he should have known better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these losers so much. I wish they could have stayed in Tamaran forever. It was a fun section to write. But we have to move on. 
> 
> Let us know what you think. 
> 
> -DNA
> 
> Ps. If you're from the US and 18+ make sure that you vote. Vote early if possible.


	12. Chapter 12

The weather held up for two days, just long enough for them to get out of the first mountain pass before the winds started to kick in. The horses strained against them and what should have been three days to their third marker took five. He did what he could to block against it, but Jon could do nothing against the rain. They made their way slowly over the ridge, unable to speak to each other without the wind whisking their words back into the valley. When they stopped to camp it was never for long, the constant noise keeping them awake. But the rain and the wind continued until they had finally made their way to the mountain pass. 

The rain lightened as they pulled their horses to a stop at the entrance, almost as if it had been pushing them in this direction. Stealing their sleep and their wits so that the pass could finish them off. “We should camp,” Jon said as he stared into the mouth of it and the fog that was leaking out. The sun was high in the sky, too high to reach them in the shadow. 

Damian nodded a look of unease creasing his brow. “We will have to ride single file,” he muttered and dismounted his horse. “If we do not make it through by nightfall… I do not like to think about wandering through the dark.” 

Neither of them said much while they set about building their camp, but the horses were uneasy. They pulled at their restraints when the wind would blow in from the pass and sent the fog in their direction. He couldn’t settle them and even Damian, who was usually the best with animals, struggled to soothe them. It was another sleepless night. The rain had stopped and the winds had mostly died out, but neither of them could shake the dread and the rock at the pit of Jon’s stomach turned over with every noise. 

They packed up just as silently as if avoiding too much noise would allow them to sneak past whatever was lurking within. Then they mounted their horses and after a long look back at Jon, Damian took the first steps into the darkness. Jon held his tongue on the protection spell that he was dying to let out. He had already done one before they had smothered their fire and he knew that he needed to hold onto as much magic as he could just in case anything or anyone attacked. They rode as fast as they dared in the suffocating space, each step making it colder and harder to see. The stone at Jon’s throat burned his skin as his clothes grew damp and he called out to Damian just to make sure he was still there. 

“Tie this to your saddle," Damian told him, throwing back a rope. Jon did as he was told. “If it were not for the mountains edge I would have no idea where we were going.”

“We need a light,” Jon suggested and before he or Damian could say anything about it, the stone on his necklace lit up. 

Damian blinked at him for a moment, the first time they had actually been able to see each other since they had set foot in the fog and he smiled. “A sun stone,” he said in wonder and Jon grinned at him. It took some maneuvering but he climbed over the top of his mount and onto the back of Damian’s so the light spread out before him, already feeling better with him pressed against his chest. They rode for a while this way, by Damian’s calculation about halfway through the pass. Jon was just starting to think that maybe they would get through this unscathed when he heard the crumble of rocks down the side of the cliff face. They pulled to a stop, Jon holding onto Damian as though he could pull him into his body and take whatever damage might harm him. He stifled the light of the stone in his fist as they waited for whatever would attack, but the air was still. Jon didn’t trust it. 

“Someone is behind us," Jon whispered into Damian’s ear. 

“And above us,” he muttered back. 

They sat on it for a moment before the rocks crumbled down again and Damian spurred them forward as fast as he could tethered together in the narrow hall of stone. They were at a steady gallop which was enough to cue whoever was hunting them. The mountain’s started to echo with their calls and the sound of their own steeds following them. They were able to keep their distance until they reached the hardest part of the path. A rocky terrain that was hard for the horses to follow. Jon barely breathed while Damian urged their horses forward as carefully as he dared, the sounds behind them getting closer and closer. 

“Not yet,” Damian whispered when he could feel Jon tensing to block whatever might come. “Not yet, hold on.” 

They made it off the rocky path and back onto even ground in a wider passage. Damian spurred at the horse's side and pushed them forward. Jon felt the rope behind them pull tight and the whinny of his horse in distress before he ripped the knife out of Damian’s belt and cut the rope free. They heard the thud of it dropping to the ground a moment later and Jon held on tighter to Damian who was muttering to the horse now begging speed from it with every step. 

The horsemen were closer behind them now, Jon could see their own lights in the fog, following them forward. An arrow whizzed past his ear and then another passed his leg before one split open Damian’s arm. He couldn’t wait any longer. “ _Hekamage_ ," he begged of his magic and he felt the light fall out of him as it made a wall where they had just been. It only took a minute for him to hear the startled and pained cries of the men riding into it, every thump pulling at him as Damian rushed to get them out of the fog. 

The wall shattered before it stopped them all and before long arrows were flying their way again. Jon blocked them one at a time, pinpointing them by feeling the movement of the mist. But it was a flawed system. Eventually he had to make another shield holding onto it as it was hit again and again. 

“Jon?” Damian barely breathed, probably feeling his distress. He shouldn’t be withering this quickly. There was something about this fog that wasn’t right. And every arrow was hitting him like a fresh bruise. 

“It is okay," he breathed. “I have you. I am going to do something, just keep riding okay?” Damian nodded, peeled his eyes off of him and spurred the horse forward. 

They had been riding for hours. Soon they would be at the mouth of the valley and as soon as they hit the open field whoever was behind them would have the advantage of numbers. He needed to take them out. He took a deep breath and reached for the warmth inside of him, pulling only what little he dared from Damian as he stretched his arm out to the wall of the mountain and shouted. 

“ _ Geta! _ ” At first he thought that it hadn’t worked but then a deep cracking sound ricocheted through the valley and he could hear the sliding of rocks again. 

Damian pushed the horse harder giving up all effort to tread carefully as the mouth of the valley came into sight, the fog thinning. Jon held onto him, feeling drained and seeing black spots around his vision as they came careening through the tunnel just before it fell in on itself. 

They pulled the horse to a stop and watched the mountain pass--or what was left of it. It was clear that no one would be coming out after them, but also that there would be no going back. Jon swayed and Damian caught him, helping him off of the horse so that he could sit in the sun that was just barely hitting them. It burned his skin but it felt good all at once and the spots started to clear just in time for him to see the man running at them. 

He was in black armor but it was covered in the dust from the rock, his eyes wide and livid as he came at them. Jon threw Damian out of the way and dove for his legs, knocking him to the side and off his feet while Damian scrambled to his. The man whipped at him with his sword but Jon held him down and tackled it away as Damian drove his own blade through the man’s neck with a shout. 

They both watched in shock as blood poured from his opened throat and he grabbed at it like he was trying to scoop it back in. Jon thought he might be sick. He had known that they would be at war and that death would inevitably happen, but actually seeing it-- seeing Damian do it… Jon looked up at him at a complete loss for words and let out a wet cry when something sharp stuck into his side. 

Damian shouted. Jon looked back down at the man under him and his red smile as he twisted the knife that he had stuck him with. 

The man pulled the blade out with the last of his strength. His body slumped and blood continued to seep out of the wound in his neck. Damian looked at it for just a moment before Jon pushed off of the man and slumped to the ground. His hand went to his side and came away wet. He looked so surprised when he looked up at Damian.

He pushed Jon's hands away as he pulled open his shirt and looked at the wound. "If y-you wanted to get me naked you could have asked. Did not have...to have someone stab me," Jon joked as Damian tore at the edge of Jon's shirt and shoved the cloth into the wound.

"Maybe we should have brought Ka'tham, but to protect you," Damian offered, trying to keep a smile on his face as his fingers slicked with the blood oozing from Jon's wound. Jon's laugh sounded pained. "Jon, please you cannot leave me. You promised." 

"I do not intend to die without marrying you first," Jon wheezed as he gripped Damian's wrist. Damian looked up at Jon then jolted.

"Where is that blue pouch your mother gave me?" Damian went through his pockets with one hand. He looked back at the horse. "Push hard," he said. Jon nodded and he let go before running for the horse. 

He tore through the packs. It had to be here. He looked back at the rubble. It couldn't be with the other horse. He felt the soft fabric and pulled it out. He slid to the ground next to Jon as he fumbled with the pouch. He looked at the pouch then the crimson cloth only growing darker as Jon breathed. Damian kissed him. Jon hummed and looked up at him with confusion in his eyes. "This is going to hurt. A lot. I am sorry, but it will help." He stuck his fingers in the bag and pulled out the crushed leaves. "I am sorry," he said again and shoved the leaves into the wound. 

Jon screamed. His entire body convulsed as the pain rolled over him. Damian looked at the wound, the blood had slowed, but it still oozed through the leaves in a steady stream. He stuffed the remaining leaves against the wound and pushed on the cloth. Jon was trembling, panting as he whined through his clenched teeth. He knew that the leaf burned. He'd cut himself what felt like ages ago and Lois had pressed the leaf against his wound. It had felt like she had stuck it into the fire, but the blood had stopped. He couldn't imagine how it felt on a wound that big. He wrapped a proper bandage around Jon's torso to hold the leaves in place. Jon's hand caught his, but his eyes were far away, lost in the haze of the pain. 

"You will be okay," he said. "We are only a half day's ride from the shore." He looked at the horse and at Jon's slumped form. He struggled to get him on his feet, but he managed to get him up onto the horse with a little help from the horse itself. He pet its neck as he secured the packs. Jon had passed out some time during the struggle. Damian panicked, but slow breaths puffed against his hand and he relaxed. He grabbed the reins and started walking toward their rendezvous. 

He checked on Jon every few minutes, but he was still asleep. He brushed his hand through his hair. He wished they hadn't lost their other horse. It would be faster to ride, but he didn't want to risk the horse. Not when he didn't know what would lay ahead. As if summoned by his thoughts, he heard a loud noise and looked over the horse. There was a large cloud of dust from the mountains. He grabbed the saddle and slid behind Jon. 

Damian turned to look back one more time, he could barely see shapes moving out of the mountain pass. He guided the horse into a gallop across the plain. He had known that they would have to hurry at some point, the leaf wouldn't stop Jon's bleeding forever, but he had hoped that they would have gotten further. With every sharp jolt he had an apology pouring from his lips. Jon was slumped against him, swaying with Damian as they raced along their path. A moan of pain slipped from him every few minutes. 

He could hear the men behind them. He hoped it was a trick of the wind and that they had not already caught up to them. He knew that they would eventually catch them. A horse with two riders could never outrun ones with only one. He leaned forward and urged the horse on. But they would try. 

He focused only on the way in front of him. He could do nothing about the men behind him. There was no cover, nowhere to hide. He could only reach his destination, or they would both fall, and Tamaran, and all of Gotham would fall after them. 

He dug his heels in and called for more. He didn't know how long they rode. He only knew that the distant cries of the men behind him became words he could make out. The echoes of their horse's hooves now struck the earth and while he knew it was impossible he swore he could feel the ground tremble with the force of their steps. 

For a moment he thought he smelled salt in the air, but it was gone and with it some of his hope. He could hear the men calling out to each other, he could hear their strategy, and yet alone, with Jon injured and a horse that was pushing past its limit, he could do nothing but continue on. He heard the cry of a sea bird and pulled the reins. The horse turned sharply and he tightened his hold on Jon's waist. Jon moaned lowly and Damian whispered an apology against his hair. 

A rider breached the hill to their side. Then another and another. He gripped the reins and pushed. A group of horsemen flowed over the hills and down into the valley, blocking his way to the water. He saw the horses moving to surround them, but he would not slow, he would not stop. He braced himself and threaded his fingers through Jon's. He had failed to save two Kents. Their entire families' histories would end with this, would end with them struck down by horsemen far from their home.

But they did not strike them down, the horses flowed around them and past them. The sound of the men behind him changed. He dared to look back as the band of horses, only five of them, took on what was left of the men from the mountains. 

Damian kept riding. His horse gave a whinny and bucked as a trio of women with bows appeared out of the grass. His hand went to his dagger and tightened on Jon as he held the reins against his chest. 

The women yelled at him in a language he had heard before, but did not speak. He kept his hands where they were and let his horse circle nervously. The rest of the horses joined them, circling around them. 

"Come no closer," he called, holding out his dagger as one of the horses moved toward him. He knew that he would have three arrows in him before he could strike anyone with his dagger, but that did not matter. 

"What will you do if I do not listen?" He was surprised that the rider was also a woman. Were they all? 

"I will protect what is mine." Jon shifted against him. He corrected so they did not slide out of position. 

"You are your father's son, Damian." 

"What?" he asked and looked around. The rider pulled her helmet off and although he had not seen her since he was young he recognized her immediately. 

"Diana," he breathed his chest tightening as his fear suddenly left him. "Please. You have to help me. Jon's been stabbed." Diana moved forward. She reached for the cloth over Jon's side. It came away tacky. The blood had started to ooze again. 

"Come. We cannot stay here." She called out in that same language and the horses spread out in a circle around them as they rode. Diana kept pace with his tired horse. She rode alongside them, her eyes darting from Damian's face, to Jon's, to where he held on tightly to Jon's fingers. They got to the coast and there was a small boat waiting on the edge. Diana helped him get Jon down from the horse. Jon leaned against him. His eyes had cleared some, though they still looked hazy with pain. 

"I want to go see the willows," Jon whispered against his neck.

"When we are back home, we will get married under the willows." Jon smiled at him, then winced and pressed on his wound. "I promise." 

Diana ordered two women to take Jon, but Damian refused to let them touch him. Instead he helped Jon walk until they were on the boat and Diana was kicking off from the shore. There was only one other woman on the boat with them. He got Jon as comfortable as he could on the blankets that had been laid out on the floor. 

"May she look at his wound?" Diana asked.

Damian nodded and moved to sit on Jon's uninjured side. 

"We heard rumors that there were mercenaries waiting for you, but we could not find them." 

"They attacked us in the pass." He held onto Jon's hand when he made a noise as the woman washed the last of the leaves from the wound.

"Are you injured?" Diana asked, she motioned to the blood on his clothes. 

"This is not mine," he said. Jon whispered his name and he leaned down. "Hush now. Rest. We are safe," he said against Jon's hair and kissed his forehead. Jon's eyes closed, but the grip on his hand did not loosen. 

Diana drank from a sleeve of water before handing it to him. He looked at Jon, but the woman was feeding him herbs. He took a drink and looked where they were headed. "I am beginning to think that the fates do not want Kent men to walk onto Amazon land under their own power." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I found your father stumbling through the wilderness with Clark on his back. He told me that they'd been ambushed. They had escaped, but not before Clark was struck by a dagger coated in spider's venom." Damian looked down to Jon and the woman shook her head with a look to Diana. 

She said something to Diana, and though he did not know the words he knew an admonition when he heard one. 

"I was only telling him about how I met his father. He tried to fight me off as well you know. Bruce was so tired from carrying Clark through the rough land that he could barely lift his sword. But he pointed it at me and told me if I took a step closer that his blade would taste my blood. I did not doubt it for a second, his eyes burned with a blue flame as he looked at me." 

She adjusted the plank that her hand had been sitting on and they turned in the water. "He passed out only a few breaths after that," she said with a laugh. "Broke his arm under the weight of them both." 

They sailed in silence. Damian watched Jon's chest as it moved with each breath. The sun felt nice against his skin. He looked up and Diana was watching them. 

"You have grown so much since I last saw you. I should have visited more, but it was difficult to see my dearest friends hurt themselves as they did." He didn't say anything. Her eyes were clouded and she looked sad. "I had never seen-" She looked to the woman who was sewing Jon's wound shut. "-a warrior's bond as strong as theirs." Her eyes were on Damian and he knew that she knew. Somehow she knew about the bond, but the other Amazons did not. "I wish that I could see them both one last time." 

She looked behind her and he turned, the shore wasn't far, and he could see a small village sprouting from the ground. "We will stay here for the night to let him rest." 

"Where are we going after that?" he asked.

Diana smiled. "We will go to my home. You will be a guest in my house. I must find you some cooler clothes. You will melt in that," she said. 

-

Jon felt too warm when he woke up. A haze over his eyes like the time when he was younger and was bedridden for a week with some illness that had swept the town. Damian had been furious with him, being away for that long when he was made to stay inside to be spared of the disease. He'd snuck out of the castle and into their cottage-- and when he found him sick in bed he'd stayed with him all night. Damian's name was on the tongue that was too big for his mouth as the last thing he remembered fully seeing flashed over his eyes - the mountain collapsing. The man laying in a puddle of his blood on the ground, the blood that had splashed across Damian's face before the man pulled his knife-

He sat upright in a panic, sucking in a deep painful breath of wet air. He gripped at his wound and let out a small moan of pain as a sharpness rattled up his side. He pushed off the mat he had been laid on, not noticing that he had been undressed until he was being pushed back down by strong and gentle hands. A woman with red hair was sitting next to him. Her hair was braided and her eyes were bright green, a pattern of broken tan spots around her face making them seem brighter. There was a pot next to her and a grinder, earth of all different colors surrounding herbs that she had stripped and laid in need piles. She spoke to him in a calm kind voice but it wasn't a language that he was familiar with. Still he could have sworn he had heard before. 

He pulled his eyebrows in when she asked him something, but he didn't understand and then she laughed. She held her hands up and said a single word as she backed out of the tent that they were in. And he nodded understanding that he was meant to stay. He looked around for his clothes but he couldn't find them, the tent was empty other than the mat and the herbs that were being blended next to him. He peeled back the blanket enough to notice the wrap around his stomach. He moved to pull it apart enough that he could see how the wound looked, maybe gauge how long he had been unconscious, but the tent flap opened and a rich accented voice that he hadn't heard since he was a child chided him. 

"I would not do that, little one," Diana said, smiling at him as she entered and kneeled next to his mat. Jon beamed and sat up further to hug her, but winced. She put a hand in his shoulder and held him back down. "Try to stay still. You have been gravely wounded, Jonathan," she told him very seriously. "You very nearly did not make it this far."

Jon swallowed and thought about the man dying beneath him. About Damian's face as he held the blood inside of Jon as it tried to leak out. "Damian?" He asked, his voice dry and scratchy, like gravel. 

"He is well," Diana promised him warmly and then became stern when she brushed back his hair and felt the fever under his skin. "Unlike you. The woman who was caring for you, Barbara, has gone to find him. He will come. You must wait and rest."

Jon laid back down but only because his head felt heavy. Diana kept stroking his hair. He couldn't remember the last time he saw her, but he knew that he had been very young. His parents were still grieving their eldest child and Diana had been in Gotham for so long that Jon thought she was from there. He had been so shocked when she left. But she touched him like she never had. 

"I am sorry about your father, little one," she said softly as sleep fell over him again. "He always wanted you to see the world. He would be proud that you have come so far."

Jon hummed as he slipped out again. 

He could hear people talking around him. The tent was warm and he could smell salt on the wind that rattled it. His head was in someone's lap and he smiled at strong fingers brushing through his hair. "I do not want to move him." It was Damian's voice right over him. He spoke softly but his voice was strong as steel. "Not until the fever is broken."

"The wound is healing nicely, but I do not have what I need to mend him fully." Another voice said, it sounded like the woman he'd woken up too, but she was now speaking English. She spoke carefully like each word was something to think about, but he was too taken by Damian scratching softly at his scalp to think more of it. 

"We must start to move. If more people come for you, the safest place for you to be is our home." That was Diana. 

"He cannot ride," Damian argued. 

"He will have to. There is no space on the road for a cart. It will not be comfortable, but he will make it. And once at my home he will heal."

They were silent for a long while before Diana spoke again. "Damian-"

"How long is the ride?"

"Two days." A wet cough racked through Jon's lungs making him groan into the lap he was in. The fingers held him softly as he settled back into place. "We will leave in the morning," Diana said finally and Jon fell back into the warmth before anyone could argue. 

It was barely light outside when he heard his name muttered right above him. He peaked his eyes opened to see Damian next to him, the frown that he was so familiar with resting on his face and creating a crease between his eyes. He pushed at it and smiled when Damian caught his hand. He followed it back down to his side and noticed that Damian had changed. He was in what looked like a long tunic, tied at the waist and cut so that his shoulders were exposed with a leather chest plate resting over them. He also had leather straps around his waist and winding down his legs to a pair of sandals. 

"You are so beautiful," Jon told him, running his hand over the olive toned skin of his leg. He felt cold. Jon frowned. "You're cold," he accused and pulled him down. "Let me love you."

"No love," Damian told him, the frown returning. "I am not cold. You are very, very warm." 

"Oh," Jon said disappointed and a cough took over him again, rattling around his chest and making him forget about temperature. 

"I have to get you dressed now," Damian told him and slowly pulled at the blankets down and helped Jon sit up. The clothes that he helped him into were a lot like the ones Damian was wearing. It was the same rich earthy tone, except his was tied at one shoulder instead of two. He slipped sandals onto him and tied them at his calves. But Jon didn't get a chest plate, instead he pulled a half cape onto him, buttoning it at his bare shoulder before he seemed satisfied enough to get him up.

It was surprising just how difficult it was for Jon to move. His limbs felt heavy and as soon as he was moving around he felt himself burning up. It was like all of his magic had bundled into his chest and was trying to burn him from the inside. Diana and the woman from the tent were waiting for them outside of the tent with their horses packed and ready. Diana smiled at him, thought it did very little to reach her eyes. She helped Damian get Jon slowly up onto the horse before Damian climbed up behind him and she checked at the exposed bandage at his side. 

"A little bleeding but the stitching has held," she assured Damian before turning a kind face to Jon. She pulled out a small vial. "Take this my darling boy," she said pressing it into his hand. "The next thing you know, you will be in my home."

Jon looked at Damian almost for permission and when he nodded at him Jon didn't hesitate to knock back the vial. It was bitter, but it was cold and it soothed the burn in his chest as he leaned back into Damian contentedly. He closed his eyes as the horse started moving and most everything was a blur around him. He nodded in and out of consciousness noticing colors and noises but not really able to make much sense of any of it. They rode for what felt like only a few hours when it was dark again. His side was tender when Damian helped him off of their mount, but he didn't remember anything much past a few coughs. 

The next day was more of the same. Barbara changed his bandages while Damian grimaced next to him and they gave him more medicine and helped him back onto the horse. He didn't see much of anything this time, his eyes refusing to stay open, but the air smelled amazing. Like wet weed and Damian and the freshest air he'd ever been in. 

He didn't feel hot when he woke up next. He felt soft and warm, and better than he had in days. He was in a large room made of white stone on all sides but one that looked like a mountain side. He could feel the breeze coming through the glassless windows and when he pushed himself up very carefully, he could see the ocean just outside. His breath caught in his throat and he held his side gently as he scooted to the edge of the large bed he had been left in. He pulled the one shouldered tunic that had been left on a chair next to the bed over his head and padded over to the window. 

Jon had read about the sea, about how it opened up to the ends of the earth, spreading so far that you couldn't see the end. His father had told him about it, painting big poetic pictures with his words as he told Jon about every piece he had remembered. Jon never expected to see it. He assumed he would live in Gotham with Damian all their lives and that would be that. Yet here he was. They had come so far already and they still had so far yet to go. 

The door to the grand room opened behind him to his left and he turned to see Damian walk in. He blinked at the empty bed before his eyes finally settled on Jon leaning against the window. He dropped the parchment he had been holding and marched over to him, dragging Jon's face down to his. He kissed him as though he hadn't seen him in months and Jon used the arm that wasn't holding his bandage to pull him in. "I am sorry," he told him between kisses. "I am sorry." Kiss. "I am sorry." Kiss. "I am sorry."

Damian held his face in both of his hands, forcing Jon to look into his eyes as he looked between both of his. He looked so angry and so relieved and so in love with him that it tore Jon worse than the blade had. "If you die on me, I will  _ never _ forgive you." He breathed out like it was fire. Jon felt a knot forming at the back of his throat keeping his words locked inside. "Do you hear me?" Damian demanded. Jon nodded and Damian kissed him again and continued to do so for a long time, until it felt a little less desperate and more comforting. 

"I am sorry," Jon said again, gripping at the small of his back when Damian finally tucked his face into his neck. "I love you."

"And I you." Damian sighed. He let Jon turn them so that they were facing back out the window, looking over the never ending ocean. 

"Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?" Jon asked as the breeze hit them again sweeping the sweet salt in the air in a whirl around them as the clouds moved out from the sun. 

"Yes, I have," Damian said softly. And when Jon looked down at him he realised he wasn't looking at the ocean at all, but back at him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is later than normal I had a long shift last night.
> 
> Anyway. I hope you guys like it!
> 
> -DNA


	13. Chapter 13

Damian read while Jon slept. He read and he talked with Diana who stopped by every morning to check on him. Sometimes their conversations would last well into the afternoon and others were quick with her stopping by only to wish him a happy day before she was off. When he wasn't reading he was complaining to an unconscious Jon that they wouldn't let him go anywhere by himself. 

"It is for your own safety," Diana said as she walked in. Damian sat up, slid his feet off of Jon's bed. He had been laying beside him. He rested his head on his shoulder so that he could feel him breathing. "Do not mind me, you looked comfortable." Diana sat down in the chair that Damian used most days. He continued to sit. He knew he would not be able to relax at Jon's side with her in the room.

"You are bored?" Diana asked. 

"I have spent most of my life surrounded by the same four walls. Now that I have seen beyond them I find that I do not wish to return to them," he said. He tucked Jon's hand back under the blankets. 

"Then come. I promise I will have my best guard stay with him." 

Damian looked at Diana then back to Jon. "I will not be gone long," he whispered and kissed Jon's temple. Diana opened the door and summoned a woman forward. 

"Stay with him. See to it that no harm comes to him." 

"Yes, your majesty," the woman said with a bow of her head. When her head rose he realized how young she was, only a few years older than him. 

"Where are we going?" he asked as they walked down the long hall leading to the main room. 

"Our way of life is different than what you are used to. We do not follow the will of a king." 

"They follow you," he said. "It is not that different."

"Perhaps. I am their queen as my mother was before me and her mother before her. We have only had queens. We will only ever follow a queen." 

As they walked through the main room and out the front door, Damian realized that he had not seen any men since they encountered the Amazons. All of the guards that he had seen stationed outside their room, or the messengers that brought him his stacks of books, every servant that brought his meals had been women. 

"Do you have men?" Damian asked. They walked down winding stairs to the town that sat below Diana's home. 

"We do," Diana said with a laugh. "They tend to the fields. They work the mills. They trade our goods with lands who do not respect our ways. The most gifted cook in our land is a man. His hand is a highly sought prize." She nudged and smirked at him. He looked around at the shops and did see men in them. One of the shops had a group of women leaning over the counter as they talked to the man behind it. An idea struck him. 

"How do you marry?" 

Diana laughed. "Your father asked me the same question years ago. We do not marry as you see it. If my dear cook decided to accept one of the many offers bestowed upon him then he would be committed heart and soul to that woman for as long as they both wished it."

"You told me that Barbara was your bride," he said. 

"She is, and has been since we were younger than you are now, but if one day her heart was swayed from mine, she could become another's bride." 

"You would let her go?" he asked. 

"It would be the most painful thing that I would ever have to do, but yes." 

"I could not-" Damian started and stopped. He could not even fathom what he would do if Jon loved another. Diana looked over to him. "I would rather die than-" He stopped when he saw the broad smile on Diana's face. He frowned. 

"I apologize. I do not doubt it. It is just that your father told me the same thing. I laughed at him. I could never tell when he was being serious."

"My father is always serious," he said. 

"He was not always. I wish that you had seen that side of him." 

"You speak of him as if he is dead." 

"He writes to me as if he has died," she replied. 

"He's written you?" he said and stopped walking. 

"Did I not tell you?" Diana looked at him like she thought he was lying to her, but he did not know what he could possibly be lying about. What would she possibly gain for lying about a letter from his father? "I have a letter from him that arrived the day we returned home." 

"May- may I see it?" 

Diana smiled and they turned around. 

-

He forgot about his father's letter until the wind from the ocean chilled him and he had tugged Jon back inside. He picked up the letter as Jon sat back down on the bed. 

"What is that?" 

"It is from my father." 

_ Diana, _

_ I cannot ask you to make the journey. You have your people to think of and I could not be farther from you and still have land beneath my feet. And I fear that if you ever did see this place you would never wish to leave. Lois has taken to dragging me out into the city when she needs supplies. It is spectacular. I remember marveling at your city, but this- Diana, it is something else. I can see him in it.  _

_ When I'm out in this city that he built, I forget that he's gone. The icy grip death has on my heart goes unnoticed for those few moments. Then we return home and I am reminded of it all and I am angry. It hurts, but I am so angry with him. He hid this place from me. I love him. I believed that he chose his family over me and I accepted it as the way it had to be. But now I have begun to wonder if that was the truth. Was he truly so afraid of me that he kept this city hidden away? Did he think that I would hunt them down? That I would slaughter them all in their hidden refuge if I knew of it? Am I the monster he thought me? The monster they all think I am? Parents pull their children away from me when we walk in the streets. Even Lois still fears me. She has tended to me when I was at my weakest, she knows that I could not even lift a kitchen knife against her and yet she still hesitates to light the fire when we return. She watches me when she does not think I am aware. I cannot find words to alleviate her fear. I do not know if any exist. I do not know if it matters.  _

_ The dreams have gotten worse. And I hear him calling to me when I am awake now. I can feel his words whisper in my mind like they have since we were children. Lois says that the boys need me and that I must carry on. But she does not feel this. She has not had half of her soul ripped away. She does not feel how badly the remaining half wants to follow. I have seen what the death of a bond does to a man. I watched my father's mind twist and writhe against that emptiness. I fear mine will do the same. I will not become that monster. I will not become my father. I would sooner walk into the devil's arms than-- His voice is calling out to me even as I write to you. He is asking where I am, why I have left him. I do not have an answer.  _

_ You asked about the boys. Jon is so much like his father. He is loyal and kind. He is fiercely protective. He is brave. He stood before his king and showed him magic. I still lose my breath thinking of how scared he must have been. He was not forged by his father to be a weapon. So he does not have his father's sharp edges. He is his mother's son. He is light. There is no other word for it. Lois worries over the power he has within him. The power he has yet not been taught to wield. But I do not worry. I watched him wish himself to my son's side without a word uttered. He has taken the hilt and he will learn his weapon through the enemies he will face.  _

_ Damian.  _

_ He is a boy who grew up without his mother. Who's only family was a brokenhearted fool that never showed him how much he cared. But he is good. He is better than I ever was. His mind is the brightest I've ever seen. Even brighter than Talia's. He devours knowledge. I cannot fill the shelves with books fast enough for him. Sometimes when we play our games I watch him. His eyes flick from piece to piece and when he looks away from the board, I know that I have lost. It was my favorite way to spend the day. You will enjoy playing with him. You will lose, but you will enjoy yourself. But I think that the thing I wish you to know the most is that he is strong. He has allowed Jon into his heart and is stronger for it. His love for that boy will make him a better man. It will make him an honorable king. It will make him someone that I am proud will carry on our family's legacy. _

_ Please, my friend, keep him safe. I have feared for his safety his entire life for he is all I have left. And I see now that that fear has kept me from him, but I would not wish it any other way because he is alive. I fear I will not live to see his return, but I wish for nothing but his safety and happiness. If you tell him anything of his father, please tell him that I love him and I wish that I had told him that more.  _

_ -Bruce  _

Damian's hands shook as he held the parchment. He reread the last line again. And again. He could not believe it. He lowered the paper but Jon's hand caught it. He had not yet finished. He stood up and started pacing as Jon finished the letter. He watched Damian. He waited for him to be ready to talk. Sometimes he hated it. He didn't want to talk about this feeling in his chest. He wanted to rip it out and never feel it again. He didn't want to- Jon's arms wrapped around him and he gripped onto his arms as he sobbed against his chest. He felt Jon's hot breath against his hair and held him tighter. 

"I do not want to lose him," Damian whispered after what felt like an eternity. 

"You will not." Jon's voice was stern. He spoke those words with the weight of power behind them. Damian pulled Jon's mouth to his. He pushed him back to the bed. Their hearts beat as one as their bond lit up between them. 

-

Jon slept heavily that night. Even Damian waking with a jolt from a nightmare did not disturb him. Damian settled with his head over Jon's heart again as he tried to go back to sleep. His mind had played tricks on him again. They were back at the mountains. The fog was thick and when Damian heard a footstep behind him he had spun, knife catching, tearing the skin as he struck out. Only it was not a stranger trying to kill them, but Jon who gripped at his throat and looked at Damian with a sad resignation. Like he had expected to die at Damian's hands. He had looked down at the blood still warm on his hands and when he looked back Jon was gone. He listened to the slow and steady beat of his heart and let it lull him back to sleep. It was only a dream. Jon was fine. He was safe and he would stay that way. He stared at his hand resting on Jon's stomach. He was alive. 

-

Diana showed them around once Barbara had agreed that Jon had fully healed. She walked them down the same way they had gone the day before. Jon marveled at the white of the stone. Diana smiled and went into detail about the history of the city. The battles they had won because of this fortress alone. They reached the middle of the city and she guided them out onto a broad swath of land. Women were battling each other. Their cries and shouts echoed off the stone of the city. 

"Our training grounds. These sacred grounds are the reason our warriors are renowned across the land." Damian watched as a woman was thrown over another's shoulder. She stumbled and gave a startled cry. He moved forward when he saw her tumble over the edge of the grounds. Diana touched his shoulder. When he looked at her she nodded to the edge. The woman was climbing back up. The one who had tossed her held out her hand and hauled her up. They clapped each other on the shoulder before they were back to their battle. 

A pair of women noticed them standing at the entrance to the ground and approached them.

"Do you have time for a match, my queen?" 

Diana smiled and nodded. She pulled her cloak off of her shoulders and another woman stepped up to take it. The woman across the field had stopped and were gathering around to watch their queen. 

The two women stepped forward. Each of them had a staff in their hands. Diana faced off against them with nothing in her hands, yet it was the women that looked nervous. Diana moved forward. The women worked together, but Diana dodged their strikes. He had never seen anyone move like that before. His hand caught Jon's as he watched the battle. Diana moved around drawing strikes when she wanted them. She elbowed one of the women in the face as her hand gripped the staff. She had her weapon. She cried out as she flipped back over the swipe to her knees. Her staff swung out and both of the women were on the ground as Diana landed on her feet. She propped the staff next to her foot and offered them a hand. 

"You lasted longer this time," she said with an honest smile. "Remember to think. Your mind is your greatest weapon. Do not let someone else wield it against you."

The women went back to training and Diana walked over to them. 

"May we train?" Damian heard himself ask. Diana looked at him. He could still see the fire of battle in her eyes. He went to his knee and bowed to her. "I wish to learn." 

"Get up you foolish boy. Of course I will teach you." Jon just watched Damian as he rose. "Do you wish to learn as well?" Diana asked her eyes on Jon. 

Jon held her gaze for only a moment before his eyes shot away to the women in the arena. He knew what he was supposed to say, that of course he wanted to train, to learn and become a warrior just like his father and his father’s father before him. That was what good children were supposed to do, take the place of their father’s. But Clark had left Jon such a big place to fill and not for the first time he thought back to the man he had sucked into the ground. One word from him and the man was gone, and who knew if he managed to dig himself out. He thought about Komand'r's fear of him when he entered Tameran. How her eyes had been stiff like she was putting on a show to make sure that he knew she could take him. He also thought of sparing with the soldiers. How good it had felt to grapple with them and how freely his magic flowed. But then his mind turned to that of the mountain pass crumbling at his fingers, trapping countless men in a rocky grave. He thought of the man that laid dead beneath him, run through by Damian’s blade. And he thought Bruce’s letter and his mother’s worry of his power. His mother who was unafraid of anything. 

He could feel Damian watching him, waiting for the answer that he thought would be automatic. Because it should have been. They went into all things together and here Jon was hesitating to learn how to better keep Damian alive. He tried for a smile but he could feel how hollow it looked. He could only hope that Diana was not as perceptive of that as Damian. 

“I am still weak from my wound, " he offered to the silence between them. “Perhaps when I have fully recovered.” 

If Diana saw the lie, she did not let it show. “Of course," she said kindly and pat his shoulder with a smile.

They spent the rest of the day touring the peninsula, ending with them on the beach overlooking the endless sea. And Jon could have stayed there his entire lifetime, breathing in the salt with the waves making the sand rush by his bare feet. He felt Damian standing just behind him, watching him the way that Jon usually did when he was waiting for Damian to speak. "Is it as frustrating to watch me as it is to be watched by me?" He asked finally and Damian stepped forward. 

He turned into his gaze and saw him frowning at him. "Almost more so," he said and crossed his arms in an almost pout. "You promised me no more secrets."

Jon sighed and looked back out at the water. "My mother is afraid of me."

"How do you-"

"The letter."

"My father's letter?" Damian asked, "but he did not say-"

"He said enough," Jon said and turned to him with all of the worry and the weight he felt out in the open. "And she should be afraid. I am. I have never been trained to use my magic as a weapon and the few times I have used it so brought a total devastation." Damian looked at him at a loss of what to say so he continued, "I just barely had a hand on my own power before we left Gotham. And now it is so large that at times I feel completely encompassed by it. What if I lose control?"

"You will not."

"You cannot possibly know that." 

Damian pulled on his arm until he turned into him, his arm resting around Jon's waist as he leaned on his shoulder. "I can and I do," he told him easily. "Because I know you better than my own self. You are the strongest person I have ever met, and if anyone can wield this power, it is you."

Jon swallowed on the knot in his throat, "Your opinion of me is too high. Your bias clouds your judgment."

"Of course it does," Damian agreed easily. "That is why my opinion is the best. Because I think the best of you." Jon sighed and Damian bumped his shoulder until he looked at him. "You can do this. And if you can not, then I will help you." 

So when Damian woke early the next morning and made his way to the training grounds Jon followed after him. He felt like a puppy wandering hopelessly behind his master, and he knew that he must look it in the eyes of the Amazons were anything to go by. They all smirked and pointed to him as he walked behind Damian and he knew that as soon as it started that he would be the one they would be targeting. It was hard for him to quell his nerves in the wake of Damian's excitement, but he managed a smile when he looked over to him. Damian was nervous enough that he believed it. 

Diana met them not long after they arrived, breaking the circle of women that had gathered to gawk at them and send them off. She smiled when she saw Jon had joined them but she did not seem surprised. Jon wondered if she and Damian had discussed it before they spoke on the beach. 

"We will start with the basics," she told them with an extra glance at Jon to soothe his worry. "I need to see what you know before we sculpt you into warriors." 

Damian nodded and Jon swallowed but they both followed her to a small field off a cliff overlooking the water. There was a small circle set up with training materials. Targets and bows and arrows, swords and staffs and pillars to strike. There was even a small square of chalk to soothe chapped hands and feet. "We will start with archery," Diana told them, leading them over to the targets. She gave Damian a bow, but stopped Jon before he could go looking for one. "Not you little one." She shook her head with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. 

Jon's throat felt dry. "But… why not?" He asked. 

She smirked at him. "When your father came to my kingdom he had no weapons. They had been broken or lost in battle. But he said he never needed one. Never touched them. When he went into battle he shot arrows of light and pulled a sword out of the thin air. Just like the great hero of the Al Caste legends." 

Jon blinked at her. Surely she did not expect him to do those things. He was not his father. He had never been trained to use his magic like that and they could not possibly have the time for him to be taught. "I have never done any of that before," he told her in a soft voice.

"That is why we must begin now," she told him reassuringly and led him to the place she wanted by his shoulders. "Concentrate. Your magic wants to be free, you just have to grasp it." 

She gave him no further instruction. Jon watched as she walked over to Damian and corrected his stance, hopelessness threatened to take him. He watched them for a moment too long and Diana raised an eyebrow at him before he sighed and looked back at his target. He closed his eyes and pulled at his magic. He had never seen his father make a weapon. He wasn't even sure he'd ever seen his father actually use the sword he had carried. All of Jon's life he had used his magic to heal and grow and change. He felt like a child all over again. Only now he had no teacher. 

He started with something simple. He tried to say just the word, " _ Gehemage. _ " But no bow appeared in his hand. He closed his eyes and tried again. " _ Gehemage! _ " And again his hand was empty. He tried emphasizing each syllable, " _ Ge-he-ma-ge."  _ Nothing. 

His face was frustrated and hot by the time that Diana felt she had gotten a good enough assessment of Damian's skill and moved them towards the pit. She offered Jon no weapon as she put him next to Damian with his sword and Damian frowned at her. "Defend yourselves," was all she said, giving them only a moment before she charged.

Jon moved without thinking, placing himself in front of Damian. His hand dropped to his belt but it was empty. He cursed and threw up his hands before he said, " _ Kahemage _ ." A wall of light blocked her from them but was easily broken by two pounds of her fist. She flattened Jon to the ground, her boot keeping him there and knocked Damian's sword away. She gave them no time to think before they reset again. And the process repeated, over and over again until Jon and Damian were both panting and he was barely on his feet. He felt drained and so incredibly frustrated that he wanted to shout but Diana reset again regardless. 

She changed her strategy this time, turning her intent to Damian instead of eliminating Jon. He held his own for a moment while Jon fumbled to try and make his magic shield him but Diana had a blade to Damian's throat. He saw just the smallest bead of blood drop down her blade and a rage erupted in him. The pent up frustration that he had been holding back lighting up under his skin. He moved, a blade of light sprung into his hand and sliced a shallow cut down her arm. He saw the little glint of fear in her eye from the shine of his own and dropped it immediately. 

"No, Jon-" she reached out to tell him it was okay. But it wasn't okay. He had hurt her and she had hurt Damian and Jon had been so useless the entire time that it would have been better for him not to be there at all. 

"I am done for today," he told them, his voice hard before he turned toward the beach. 

Damian caught Jon's hand. Jon looked down at it then his eyes flicked to his neck, before settling on his own. Jon's hand touched the nick on his neck. "You should have someone look at that," he said softly. 

"That infant panther I tried to adopt when we were children did worse," he said. He saw Jon's lips twitch. He squeezed his fingers and offered him a smile. "Will you stay and watch? I know that I can defeat her. I just need to find the right way. You have always been good at seeing my faults." 

"Damian…"

"Do you think I can't?" he asked sharply. Damian let his eyes narrow in anger. He was relieved when Jon rose to that. The defeat in his eyes gave way to irritation. 

"I didn't say that," Jon replied back. "Fine. I will watch you get knocked down over and over again." 

He kissed Jon's hand before turning and heading back to Diana. He glanced over his shoulder and wondered. 

-

"Even my toes ache," Damian whined as he fell down next to Jon. "Carry me." Diana had moved from weapons to wrestling when Jon sat down on the sidelines. She had tossed him over her shoulders or body slammed him into the ground more times than he could count. Jon pat at the dust on his shoulder. He didn't look as downtrodden as he had when he took to the sidelines. 

"It is better training if you walk yourself," Jon replied with a smirk. 

"But my toes," he whined and flopped his arm down against Jon's leg. 

"I will carry you," a voice offered. He opened his eyes and looked up at one of the warriors that he had sparred with a few hours before. He glanced over at Jon. He was frowning at the girl. Her eyes flicked to Jon, but she focused back on Damian. She wiped a hand through her sleek black hair and offered him a hand. 

"Emi," Diana broke in. "You are late for your next lesson." 

The girl tilted her head and smirked at Damian before running past Diana who turned to watch her leave. 

"That was odd," Jon said. Damian shrugged and closed his eyes again. 

"Would you like to join us for a swim?" Diana asked a few minutes later. Damian had been on the verge of sleep, but Jon grabbed his arm. 

"In the ocean?!" 

"Yes," Diana said with a smile. Damian didn't see any sign of Jon's bad mood as he dragged Damian to his feet. Barbara joined them on their way down to the beach. She took Diana's hand and smiled. 

" _ Hello,"  _ he offered in stilted Amazonian. Barbara's smile grew. 

_ "Hello, young prince. How was your training?"  _

" _ Training _ ?" he repeated. He had not heard that word yet. Diana supplied the translation and Damian repeated it again. " _ Hard,"  _ he answered. "But enlightening," he added in his native language and looked at Barbara with an apology.

"When did you learn Amazonian?" Jon asked. 

"While you were sleeping. There was not much else to do while we were traveling." Jon looked at him in disbelief. "I am still learning." 

"I was surprised to learn that Clark never taught you. He is an excellent teacher. He taught me your language." Diana smiled and walked in front of them as they went down the narrow stairs to the beach. "Your brothers used to whisper secrets to each other in my language. I think they forgot that your fathers spoke the language too. Bruce used to complain about it in his letters." Diana was grinning when she looked back at them. "I had taught them words that Clark had not. Some words that might not have been meant for the mouths of princes. 

"You met our brothers?" Jon said quietly. 

"I did," Diana answered. 

Damian's mouth opened, but he said nothing. All of the questions in his head were stuck in his throat. He did not know what to ask first or if he even could. He had put that curiosity to bed many years ago and feared it would not quiet if he let it rise again. Barbara stripped of her dress and walked into the waves. He threw his clothes onto the sand and ran into the water. 

They floated as the sun hung high overhead. He let the waves carry him to and from the beach. He could hear the playful challenges that Diana tossed at Jon. It did not take many before he heard Jon accept. As the sun began to dip to the horizon he made his way back to the beach. He stood next to their clothes and watched Diana throw Jon into the waves. 

" _ I have not seen her this happy in a long time,"  _ Barbara said. Damian hadn't heard her walk up. 

"I wish that this would last," he replied. She nodded and her eyes fell back to the pair struggling to make their way back to them. They kept pushing and pulling each other back into the water.

-

Jon stood out on the balcony again when they got back. His shoulders were pink from the sun. He had been quiet on their walk back to their room. Damian walked around the room moving clothing and books even though they were fine where they were. He kept his gaze on Jon's back. He could tell that he was thinking deeply about something. 

Damian got changed and sat on the end of the bed. He leaned forward and felt the pull of his tired muscles. He knew he would be sore the next day. He would be sore, but he would get up and go back to the practice field again. He did not know if Jon would come with him. 

"Do you think that I am weak?" he asked. 

Jon startled and turned to him. "No. Why would you ask that?" 

"We were both fighting against Diana, but you always stepped in front of me."

"That does not mean I think you are weak."

"What does it mean then? I know that I am not as strong as you. Or as skilled with a sword. But I am going to learn. That is why I want to train here. I want to be stronger so that I can fight beside you. So that you don't have to protect me."

"That's-- I'm  _ meant _ to protect you." 

He held his hands out and Jon took them. Damian pulled him in and rested his head against his stomach as he wrapped his arms around his legs. "I want to be able to protect you too. I don't want to feel the panic I did in the mountain pass." Jon pat his hair. He closed his eyes as he ran his fingers through it. 

"I don't either. But I cannot bear to see you hurt," Jon said quietly. Damian opened his eyes and looked at the space next to him. Jon's fingers still ran through his hair in a steady rhythm. 

"I do not wish to see it again either." Damian tilted his head back and looked up at Jon. 

"She was afraid of me," Jon whispered. 

Damian pulled him down next to him and then pushed him down until he could wrap himself over Jon and hide him away from the world. "You were quite angry. You have been angry with me so many times before that I forget how startling it can be." 

"That is not why she was afraid," Jon said. 

Damian leaned back enough to look at Jon's face. He could see the distress clear in his features. "Why does it matter if she fears you? Is fear not a useful tool?" 

"Fear is what caused the great war. It is what drove my people into hiding." 

"I do not fear you. You could strike a room full of people down with your words and I would not fear you." 

"You don't know that," Jon said. 

"I do. Because I have seen your light. I have watched you create life out of death and I know that is what your magic is for. You are meant not to protect me, but to spread life." 

\---

Jon followed Damian back to the training grounds the next morning, but he was by no means excited about the prospect of getting beaten down again. He was surprised to see that Diana wasn't alone when they reached the field, but standing next to a woman with long red hair. Her expression was much more stern than Diana's as they approached, her eyes locked warily on Jon and he and Damian shared a look before they fully reached them. 

"Good morning." Diana smiled at them widely. "Damian, go and choose your weapon. I would like to speak to Jonathan."

Damian nodded and squeezed Jon's hand before he walked past Diana to the circle. When he was far enough away, Diana turned back to Jon. "Jonathan, this is Artemis," she said, putting her hand on the red headed woman's shoulder. "I thought instead of training with us, you could go with her today."

He blinked at that."Where are we going?"

Artemis did not answer his question. Instead she looked him up and down again seeming almost disappointed before she turned and said, “Follow me boy," before she began toward the path higher up the mountain top. 

They walked silently and in single file as she started up a steep set of stairs built into the mountain face. Jon chewed on his questions trying to figure out what Artemis could teach him that Diana couldn't. He didn't know how any of this was supposed to help him- but he didn't have a reason not to try.

There was a pure at the top of the mountain that looked like it was carved into the stone. Artemis didn't pause before she started into it and Jon had to skip a few steps to keep up with her. They walked into a large room filled with men and women alike on their knees with their foreheads pressed to the floor. They were facing a pyre alight with a blue flame muttering in unison in a language Jon did not know. Artemis didn't seem affected by them in the slightest, walking straight past them to the door at the end of the room. Jon hurried after her, unnerved by the ominous noise. 

There was another set of stairs that curved around the peak of the mountain until it let them out in a chamber that opened to a cliff edge. There was a circular pit in the center that was empty and the room was dark. She stopped there and Jon hesitated before he stepped up next to her. He cast his eyes sideways and looked quickly back at the pit when her sharp gaze zeroed in on him. 

"Light the fire," she told him. He looked at her again and took a breath-- but she stopped him by grabbing his arm. "With the common tongue." 

He pulled for the magic in his stomach and felt it roll around there. He focused on the stone and with everything he had he said, " _ Fire. _ " Nothing happened. He tried again. And again. But the basin stayed empty and he looked at Artemis, the frustration of the day before. "How am I supposed to do this?" He asked her unchanging expression. "You and Diana keep saying to  _ do _ things but I have received no instruction on  _ how _ it should be done." 

There was a twinkle in her eye when she finally turned to him. "You know I had the pleasure of meeting your late father when he visited Themiscyra. He was a powerful man. Had a wicked way with words." Her eyes ran down Jon and back up. "You look very much like him. Perhaps this is where the queen has made her mistake in thinking you shared his power."

Anger spiked behind his eyes. "I have magic."

"I have yet to see any proof of this."

"How am I supposed to demonstrate it when no one will allow me to try?"

She smirked. "I was under the impression that you spent the entirety of yesterday  _ trying _ ."

"With no guidance!" He shot back at her. "I spent a fortnight with the Tameranians at their border teaching them new magic. I  _ taught  _ them. People need to be taught before they do things they do not know. You cannot simply say  _ fire _ and expect-" he blinked when the warmth hit him and looked at the basin, fire now raging at its heart. 

Artemis beamed at him and stepped forward taking him by the shoulders. "You must  _ feel _ what you need from the goddesses. If you do not feel it, then you do not want it badly enough. The same can be said of war as fire." She placed a hand over his heart and stared ferociously into his eyes. She was so close to him that he wanted to step backward very aware of how alone they were. But she did not advance any closer. "Your heart is your most valuable weapon. And when you summon your blade, you must feel it." 

She took a step back from him and held out her hand. " _ Mistress, to me, _ " she said to the cliff side. 

For a moment nothing happened. Jon looked out onto the windy blue skies and waited for something to happen but nothing came. He looked back to Artemis frowning but she didn't seem dismayed. She simply waited, her face full of hope and confidence until he heard something whistling through the sky. He jumped when the scythe hit her hand, wind blowing out from the collision point and blowing back his hair. He stumbled back a step. She turned back to Jon and this time her eyes were kind. 

"The Amazonians have no magic. We have blessings granted to us by the goddesses. Only those who can fight with the full strength of their heart may bear the fruits of their weapons."

And Jon felt overwhelmed by that, feeling that taking on this challenge would be to learn a new language entirely. "I have not the time to-"

"You do not need the time," she told him with such security that he wanted to believe her. "The Queen and her bride have said that the bond you have with your Prince is one they have never experienced before. If you can harness the love you have for him, you can do anything." She waved her hand over the fire and it vanished as she came to stand behind him. "If you can  _ feel _ the fire, the words you say will mean next to nothing. Now light it again. But light it with the name of your lover." 

Jon's ears were hot and his lips pressed together as he sucked in a deep breath and tried again. 

-

It was well past dark when he made it back to their chambers, Damian was already in his bed clothes looking like he had bathed. He jumped to his feet when Jon stumbled in feeling drained and pale. "I was about to go looking for you," Damian told him, eyes full of the fire that Jon had to work so hard to get to. "My head has been aching all day, what did that woman have you-"

Jon's lips pulled at Damian's taking the unshead words into his own mouth and kicked the door shut. Damian didn't fight him, letting Jon walk him back to the bed and climb over him, taking in all that he could until their heads stopped throbbing. He pulled away and looked down at him from where he was straddling his legs. 

"I hope you are making more progress than I am." He sighed in pleased exhaustion. He managed to light the fire by the end of the evening. But he was so depleted at that point that it was small. 

Damian ran his hand up his arm and back down. "Tell me about your day?" He asked with the vulnerability that he only ever showed Jon. It brought an almost normality to all of the insanity of their journey. He smiled at him. This boy that he loved so fully. It was difficult to get through what he had learned when he had to take so many breaks to kiss him. 

The next day they were woken by heavy knocks. Damian whined as Jon slid out from beneath him and answered the door. 

"You were late to your training."

Damian sat up to look at the door. The red headed woman from the day before was standing at the door looking as irritated as she had the day before. Her eyes flicked to him. She looked him up and down and Damian had the urge to pull the blanket up over him. 

"Do not keep me waiting," she said. Jon nodded and rushed as he got changed into his clothes for the day. Damian watched him from the center of the bed. 

"I'll see you tonight," Jon said. He leaned over and kissed him. Damian held him close and ignored the cough from the door. 

"Do not keep me waiting too long," he said, echoing the words he'd told Jon when they were sneaking around the castle. 

"I will not, my love." He smiled and let Jon go. 

Diana came for him not too long after. She watched him as he flipped through one of the books he'd been given. 

"That is quite the stack of books. Gifts from my ladies?" 

He hummed, distracted by the words before him. 

"We should go. There is rain coming. It will steal our light from us," she said and stepped back to the door. 

He was bruised and sore. His jaw ached where he'd been hit with a shield. His ribs, from the hilt of a sword. He could not list all the bruises that he had. But he still stood. He focused on Diana as she stood across from him. The other women had circled to watch. She moved and he blocked, barely. His arm was weak from constantly holding her off. He swiped at her and she slipped away with a smile. His eyes searched for her next move. His vision faded briefly and her sword collided with his arm. He winced as he was knocked to the ground. But the pain in his arm was nothing compared to the ache in his head. Diana crouched next to him. She tilted his head so he had to look up at her. 

"We are done for the day. You did well." A few of the women stepped forward to offer him a hand up, but Diana shooed them away. "Come. I wish to speak with you." He pushed himself up and only years of hiding his weaknesses kept him from touching his head when the world swayed around him. 

Diana was right. By the time they got back to the room the skies had opened up and it was pouring. He thought of Jon up on the mountain and felt a yearning to be there with him. He sat down at the table in the corner. 

"You are not well," Diana said. 

"I am fine," he replied, he dropped his hand from where he'd been rubbing at his temple. 

"I noticed your concentration slipping throughout our training today. Your mind is somewhere else, your thoughts on someone else." 

"My head feels like it will explode," he admitted. "But it is not an illness." He looked up at her and she seemed to know what he was saying without him saying it out loud. 

"Have you told Jon?" 

"No. I mean, I have, but he does not know how much it hurts. I do not want him to worry. He is getting stronger. I know it. That is all that matters." 

"And what of you?"

"I am getting stronger too. I can withstand this." He said the last with his eyes closed as the pressure built and he felt like his head would crack under the strain. 

"Why did you wish to train?" 

"To get stronger," he replied. 

"You are to be King. You do not have to be strong. You command men to be strong for you." 

"I have no kingdom. I have no men to command." 

"You have Jon," Diana offered. 

"He is not mine to command. I was the cause of the death of one Kent. I will not be the cause of his." 

"He wishes to be stronger so he might better protect you."

"I know. I want to prove to him that he does not need to protect me." 

"He will always wish to protect you," Diana said and touched his shoulder. "That is love." 

The door swung open and Jon stood in the doorway. He was soaking wet and his hair clung like tendrils across his face. 

"Oh child," Diana said. 

"I summoned fire!" Jon said. His face split in two with the force of his smile. 

"In the rain?" Damian asked already moving to Jon, drawn in by the joy on his face. 

"I am proud of you," Diana said with a smile. "I will leave you to warm up." 

Jon shivered as soon as the door shut. Damian pulled him further in and started peeling him out of his clothes. They were soaked through and stuck to his skin. 

"I held it in the palm of my hand, and it did not go out until I willed it." Jon looked at him and smiled. "How did your training go?" 

"I got hit over and over with a wooden sword," he replied. He tugged Jon in and kissed him. "You are freezing. It is my turn to warm you up." 

-

He woke up as a flash of lightning filled the room. The door was open and water was leaking inside. He felt Jon wrapped around him and wiggled his way out from the comfort of his arms. He shut the door and watched the lightning dance across the sky. He'd never seen a storm this big before. He'd never seen one as beautiful before. 

He turned around and his blood ran cold. He stumbled back against the door. It rattled and dull blue eyes turned to him from where they had been studying Jon asleep in the bed. He couldn't move as the impossible figure crept across the room. He watched as it got closer, then as it reached out. 

"Ahh!" Jon shouted as Damian felt an ice cold finger touch his forehead. He leaned against the door and looked over to Jon. He was holding his chest and looking over to him in confusion. "Damian? What are you doing over there?" 

"I couldn't sleep. The storm," he said. Jon help his hand out to him. He checked that the door was still locked before crawling back into his arms. Had what he seen been real? How could it be? He was dead. He'd seen him die. 

"You're thinking too much," Jon said, hugging him tighter. He turned and wrapped his arms around him. His mind was playing tricks on him. He was tired. That was it. Anything else was impossible. 

-

The next morning was the same as the last. Jon left with Artemis. Damian waited for Diana. This continued until one morning Diana did not take him to the training grounds. They walked into a bright room with large open windows and books. So many books. 

"This is Barbara's favorite place. I thought you might enjoy it as well. No one else is allowed in here, but you are a friend. I am sure she will not mind. I also found some parchments that you might find interesting." She touched a stack of folded bound pages and nodded once before turning for the door. 

"Wait. What about training?" 

"It is important to rest the body and mind. We will train tomorrow. Enjoy your day." 

He touched the pages and recognized the handwriting. It was his father's. He opened the first letter. 

_ Diana,  _

_ Your letter was very welcome. And your handwriting is better than Clark's. Sometimes his words are so illegible that it might as well be another language.  _

He read the rest of the page, then opened the next

_ Richard is walking. Talia talked about it for the entirety of dinner last night. There could be no prouder of a mother.  _

Damian devoured every word about his mother and brother. The arguments his parents had. The struggles they faced. He held his breath as his father told the story of his brother climbing the side of the tower. He knew he survived, but to read his father's words he had felt that fear. 

_ Diana,  _

_ What we feared has happened. War is upon us. I hope this finds you and I hope that your land prevails against these monsters.  _

_ Bruce _

The last letter in that bundle was just those three sentences. 

He tied them back together and opened the next. 

_ There are moments when we're in battle that I look at him and want to stay out on that blood soaked ground. I am not the king. He is not my guard. We are our truest selves.  _

He folded the letter after finishing it. 

_ The guilt does not eat at me any longer. There are nights where my thoughts settle on Gotham and our lives back home, but his touch pushes all thought away. I cannot bear the thought of a world where I cannot touch him.  _

He dropped it on the desk. 

_ The fool nearly died. He took a sword meant for me. I held him in my arms as he trembled and held the wound. He does not remember healing himself. He whispered the words so quietly I would not have heard if he had not been in my arms.  _

With each letter that he read his view of his father tilted. 

_ We are winning. My men take the magicians throats when they strike now. Clark stared at me when I made the order. I wish I knew what he was thinking. I fear they are the words that I hear in my head. 'He would do this to me too.' _

Damian stared at the words. 

_ I forgot my own son's birthday.  _

Damian didn't finish that letter. 

_ We've extended our return. Clark doesn't even bother with his own tent any longer. I know that I should be happy. We have won. We have pushed them back beyond their borders. But I return to a wife who curses me for the difficulty she is having. She said in her last letter that she had requested you to visit and help with the delivery. I do hope that you can make the trip.  _

Damian looked at the last letter in that stack. He hadn't realized how long he'd been reading until he noticed a lantern had been brought and a plate of food sat next to him. He picked up the last letter. 

_ They are dead.  _

_ I found the boys first. I touched my sons cold skin and knew the rage that had consumed my father. Clark broke down, he did not let go of his son's body even as I left. I could feel the encroaching loss as I walked down the hall. A pair of soldiers followed behind me. The rest had left to search the castle. I saw Talia's hand on the floor as soon as I opened our bedroom door. There was an ink stain on her fingertips like always. Lois was slumped next to her when I walked around the bed. I reached out for Talia and when I did Lois struck out with a knife. The edge caught me in the wrist. The men moved at my shout of surprise, but I couldn't take anything in but the tiny bundle wailing in her arms. He is a miracle.  _

Damian set the page down, the letter went on, but he couldn't. 

\---

Jon spent the rest of the week in a state of exhaustion that he had never felt before. He barely made it back to their room each night before he fell into their bed. But Artemis didn't let up on him. She pushed him, not letting him pull back for even a moment to rest. And every night Damian rubbed the warmth back into his limbs until she was back the next day to start again

Two more weeks had passed before he was about to build a flame at his first will, in the words of the common tongue. But he had only had a moment before he collapsed, the exertion of the day proving to be too much. 

He woke on his own the next day. The sun streaming through the windows overlooking the water. He pushed himself up, groaning when his muscles reminded him of his over exertion. He was still struggling to pull his shirt on when there was a knock on the door and Barbara stepped in. Jon blinked at her, hands paused on the laces of his tunic. 

"I hope you do not mind," she told him in way of greeting. Her words were slow and careful. "Artemis says she has finished with you. Could I borrow you for the day?" 

"Of course," he said after the smallest hesitation. 

She gave him a moment of privacy to finish getting dressed and he met her fight outside the door. He was surprised to see that they were alone. There was almost always a guard with Diana, he had assumed that there would be one with her queen as well. But something told him that asking her about it would not be a welcome subject so he kept his mouth shut and followed her out of the cliffside palace. 

Everyone they passed bowed to Barbara muttering a greeting and their respect. She nodded back but kept silent, not having spoken since they left the room. Jon had to wonder if this silence was common for Amazonian women. Artemis had also been silent, nothing like the men on the waterfront front of Tameran. 

"Where are we going?" He asked when they passed the turn off to the beach and the training grounds.

"Not long," she said softly but did not answer his question. They made their way to a group of caves that were chucked away at the bottom of the cliffs. They were not dark like the one Artemis took him to. They were warm with fire and full of light. 

She led him inside and he saw people all around, some laying on mats while others pat their heads with water, bandaged them and ground medicines at their bedside. He stood in the entrance for a long moment just watching and Barbara stood watching him. "I brought your father here when he visited," she said finally when what he was looking at sank in. "We Amazons have always been gifted healers. Your father was very interested in how we make our medicines. I thought you might have the same affinity." 

"I-" Jon stopped not quite knowing what to say. "Yes." He finally settled on. "I would like to learn."

She smiled at him, a wild toothy grin and beckoned him forward. "Come." 

-

Damian was in bed when he returned, curled up in a little ball under the covers, watching the waiting light out the window. He was distracted, not seeming to notice Jon when he came in. He shut the door as quietly as he could and kicked off his shoes, climbing into the bed behind him. Damian relaxed when Jon wrapped his arm around him, closing his eyes and turning into his chest. 

Jon frowned when he burrowed into him, carding his fingers into his hair. "Where are you right now?" He asked softly. 

"Gotham." Damian grumbled. "In the lake on a sunny day."

"That sounds nice." Jon sighed. 

"Come with me," Damian said pulling him down onto the bed. 

Jon laid back and closed his eyes letting the lake by the castle wash over him. But he stayed on the surface, not diving too deep into the water. He knew that there was more to this than that, that something was bothering Damian. So he lay with him for a while, rubbing circles into his back before he asked, "Where are you really?" 

Damian sighed and opened his eyes looking too tired to be annoyed that Jon knew when he was lying. "Diana took me to her library today."

Jon raised an eyebrow at him. "Did you find some new histories?"

He shook his head against Jon's chest, fiddling with the tie of his tunic. "She had letters from my father," he said softly. Jon didn't respond. He didn't know what to say. So he just kept rubbing circles into his back to remind him that this was a place where he could say anything. He continued. "She had stacks of them. Maybe hundreds from before I was ever born. He wrote her all the time about my mother and my brother and your dad. So many about your dad and the war and all the things they never said to each other." He swallowed and looked up at Jon with the same determination that Jon was sure he had fallen for. There was never anything to question with Damian because he was always sure. He was sturdy. He  _ knew _ . "Do you remember what you said to me when you were stabbed?" 

He hadn't expected that. "No, I do not," he told him softly. "Everything after is a fever dream."

Damian turned his eyes back down. "You told me that you would not die until we were married."

He chuckled and kissed the top of Damian's head. "That sounds like me." They were quiet for a moment. "We can get married at the willows," he muttered in content. 

He wasn't sure why but it made Damian smile at him and some of the tension he had been carrying eased. "You know in the Amazons' terms, we are already married," Damian teased. 

"I do not care much for these terms," Jon told him, wrinkling his nose. 

"No?" 

"Do you?" Jon asked surprised. 

"I do not see anything wrong with it," he admitted sitting up on his elbow so that he could look down at him. "It's a very straightforward way to express love." 

"But it is not very romantic," Jon told him and he felt his cheeks getting a little hot. "There is no courtship here. No one to ask for permission to take ones hand. There is a freedom here… but," he smiled shyly and shrugged. "Call me old fashioned, but you deserve the effort of a courtship."

Damian really smiled at him then. "Do you not consider me already courted?" 

"Of course not." He snorted. 

Damian rolled his eyes. "You have brought me flowers every week for our entire lives," he told him with a kiss. "Protected me from those who have tried to hurt me." Another kiss. "Made me smile when I thought I never could again." Another. "Saved my life." He ran a thumb over Jon's cheek. "So many times."

Jon grinned at him. "You're right. I guess you have to marry me now."

"You already gave me a ring," Damian said wiggling the river rock on his finger. 

"That is not an engagement ring," he said shaking his head. "Engagement rings are beautiful."

"I like this ring," Damian complained. "You made it for me."

"I can make you a pretty ring too," Jon told him looking around them until he saw the ornate letter opener on the bedside table. He sat up and grabbed it, crossing his legs so that he was looking directly at Damian. He watched the light in his green eyes as he muttered to the metal and let it bend between his palms. When he opened them, a bold and yet delicate ring sat in the center of hand, carved in gold and silver with the amber from the handle sitting in the center of sunflowers. 

He took Damian's left hand and slid the river ring off and the amber ring into its place. "That is an engagement ring," he whispered, taking his hand in both of his and kissing it. 

Damian left his hand in Jon's, not even looking at the ring. "You know you can not take that back." He warned him. 

"All I have ever wanted was to be yours." Jon shrugged because it was so simple to him. Damian was everything. He was what Jon  _ knew. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a crazy week for me. Hopefully you guys like the chapter and we'll see you again next week.
> 
> -DNA


	14. Chapter 14

There was a stack of books sitting on the table outside their room. Damian looked at it and down the hall. He saw a dark haired girl, barely older than him peeking around the corner. He took the first book off the stack and looked back to her, but she was gone. 

"Sorry," Jon said rushing out the door. "More books?" he asked. Damian nodded and set the book back down on the stack. Diana had told him when she walked him back to the room the night before that they could visit the town if they wished. When they'd woken up Jon had immediately perked up at the idea that they didn't have to stay in the palace or train. 

Damian noticed as they walked through the streets that women watched them. Jon was offered a knife when he stopped to look at a stall in the marketplace. Three separate women gave Damian food. Jon pouted and wondered why they weren't giving him any food. Damian just ate his latest snack and smiled at the whine leaking into his voice. 

Jon saw a pair of the women he had trained with and stopped to greet them. Damian wandered to the next stall. He was lured in by an elderly woman admiring his ring. He nodded and held it out for her to look at. She hummed and ducked below her table. 

"I have a knife that matches that pattern," she said and opened the case. He looked down at the weapon. It did look like the letter opener's brother. A large amber stone sat at the end and flowers were etched into the blade. 

"How much is it?" he asked. 

She looked surprised. "You wish to buy someone's favor?" 

Damian blinked and he looked down at the stick of meat in his hand. And thought of what Diana had told him when they first came here. He looked back at Jon who was talking to a new girl that was smiling at him and Damian frowned. 

"How much?" The woman looked at him, then followed his line of sight. Her smile softened. She closed the case with a snap and Damian turned back to her. "I can pay-" She put the case in his hands. 

"I will trade you for that stick," she said. Damian nodded and handed her the meat. 

He tucked the case under his arm and walked back over to the small group that had grown around Jon. He pushed through, shooting a disgruntled woman a look before nearly stumbling against Jon. 

"I got you something my love," he said loudly. He held the case out to Jon who looked surprised at both the public endearment and Damian's sudden arrival. Jon opened the case and Damian saw the moment that he recognized the pattern. "Thank you," Jon said. Damian felt a few of the crowd deflate. He grinned in his triumph and pulled Jon down into a kiss. Jon made a startled noise but his hand immediately wrapped around to hold Damian in place and Damian heard the rest of the crowd's displeasure as they disapated. 

Damian lowered himself back to the flats of his feet and smiled as he held onto Jon's neck. 

"What was that for?" 

"I found out what all the books really meant," Damian said. "I wanted everyone to know that I have already been courted." 

"I didn't bring you any books though," Jon said lowly and with a hint of mischief.

"Maybe I should consider one of their offers then," he said and turned. Jon laughed and pulled him back against him. Damian took his hand and guided him over to the woman who had traded him the knife. They talked to her for a while before moving on with the promise of bringing her back another stick as a thank you. 

As they walked the eyes on them and the gifts stopped. Jon was amazed by the change. They finished their walk through the market and circled back to keep their promise then walked down to the beach. Jon stood in the sand and looked out at the water. Damian slid his arm around him and tucked his head against his chest. 

"It is my turn to ask where you are."

"Do you think we'll make it home?" 

Damian looked out at the water. He thought of how far they still needed to travel, of the unknown that laid before them. "Yes," he answered and felt the surety settling in his chest. They would. "We will, because you are going to marry me under those boring trees and you're going to be my king as I will be yours." He turned and looked up at Jon. "But first we must ask Diana for her help." 

-

The next morning Damian smiled as he greeted Diana on the stairs leading to the training ground. Jon was walking a few steps behind him complaining about how Damian had tied the knife around his ankle. Diana looked down at the new hilt and smirked at them a twinkle in her eyes that he hadn't seen yet. 

"That is a quality blade," Diana said. Jon jerked back up and looked flustered. "Someone must desire you a great deal." 

Damian snickered at the blush that bloomed on Jon's face. Jon elbowed him and hissed for him to shut up. 

"Congratulations boys, it had been difficult watching my women court Damian, but I did not want you to feel forced to honor our traditions. There will be many broken hearts," she said and turned to the training grounds. 

"Oh. Diana. I wanted to ask- I mean. I-" Jon touched his arm, reassuring him. He swallowed and straightened his shoulders. "I would request your aid in our battle against the Demon King." 

"Your father is my dearest friend. I would not deny his son any request," she said and Damian blinked, a little surprised by the response. "But if you wish for the Queen of the Amazons and her warriors to fight alongside you, you must earn that right. It is not something that is freely given." 

"How may we earn it?" he asked. 

Diana smiled. She looked to Jon and back to Damian. 

"You may earn it by defeating me in battle." Damian thought back to all of the times he'd been knocked down in training and the bruises he still sported. He could feel their chances slipping from their grasp, the promise he made on the beach fading into the realm of dreams. "I look forward to your challenge boys."

"Wait. What?" 

"You asked for both of you to earn the honor. You must fight together to defeat me." She put her hand on Damian's shoulder. "I would not have defeated your father if he had thought to include Clark in his challenge."

"I am not my father," he snapped. The dark feelings still swirling in his chest from the letters breaking free to lash out. 

Diana stepped back. "No. You are not." She looked to Jon and ducked her head. "I will send word when the challenge is set."

Damian nodded sharply. 

"Damian," Jon hissed as soon as they were alone in the hall. 

Damian shook his head and walked out into the training grounds. He knew it was not smart, he knew that fighting anyone when he was this angry was foolish, but he picked up the sword anyway and rounded on Jon. 

"Let us see what we have learned," Damian said and waited. Jon looked at him for a long moment. He shook his head and stepped away from the weapons rack. 

"I am not a knight for you to take your frustrations out on." Damian stared at him. "I am going to go find Barbara. You should apologize to Diana." It didn't sound like a suggestion. Jon walked off and Damian was left standing with the practice sword hanging uselessly at his side feeling like a child. He only stood there for a few minutes before he went to find Diana. 

She was in the library sitting before a board. She twirled a fallen pawn as she studied the game set out before her. She held out the pawn to him. He took it and sat across from her. 

"I am sorry," he told her when she did not look up from the board. He rubbed the pawn with his thumb and looked at the dark piece. 

"I started this game over twenty years ago," she said. He looked down at the board. "'Checkmate in three' he had told me. I have looked, but I cannot find my weakness." 

Damian looked at the board, actually looked at the pieces. He scoffed and looked up. "He lied," he told her. He took his king and tipped it over. "It was you that had checkmate." Diana looked down at the board and laughed. She picked up the pieces and set them back in their spots. Damian did the same and silently they began a game. He saw his father in the way that Diana played. But she sacrificed pieces where his father did not. He won the first game. She set up again. As they played, they talked. They talked about the war, about the battle that was coming. Diana laughed again as he beat her a third time. 

"Bruce was right. I have enjoyed our games. When I asked you why you wished to train, you said that you wished to get stronger. I think that this," she tapped his forehead. 'is your greatest strength. Do not be afraid to use it. Not all strength comes from the ability to wield a sword."

" _ My Queen _ ," Barbara said as she walked in the room. Jon was only a few steps behind her. He gave Damian a cool look and Damian knew there was another apology in his future. 

"Thank you for the games," he said and stood. 

He took Jon's hand and whispered, "I am sorry, my love." 

Jon looked down at their tangled fingers and sighed answering with a small squeeze. He led Damian out of the room and back down the halls past a few warriors in the corridor. They looked between the two of them and smiled knowingly at their hands and the blade on his leg and Jon felt the same heat bloom in his cheeks as when Diana had offered her congratulations. Not much of the day had passed, but he didn't turn them out towards the courtyard or training grounds, instead he led them back to their room and Damian watched him in silent curiosity. 

"What are we doing?" He asked as he watched Jon close and lock the door behind him. 

"Training," he answered simply as he pulled his shirt over his head. Damian watched him with careful eyes, lingering on the stab wound between his ribs that had bunched into a red and white knot of a scar. He didn't seem completely convinced when Jon approached him, but humored the kiss. 

"And how is this training?" Damian asked finally when Jon kissed down his neck. 

Jon sighed again, pulling back just enough so that he could focus on the laces of Damian's shirt. "I have felt your head aching all week. We have a lot of training to do if we are going to defeat Diana," Damian was watching his chest as he spoke, his hand splayed across it, tracing his freckles with a lazy trail of his fingers. Jon pulled his laces free and moved his hand to Damian's jaw, pointing his chin up toward him with a caress of his thumb. "Let me offer some relief," he muttered and Damian moved forward instead of answering. 

His hands were rougher than they had been only months before. Battered and broken from the days that he had spent in the ring with Diana as Jon was sealed away in the cliffs with Artemis. So many days that they had spent apart that Jon had barely noticed in his search for more power. And he wanted those days back now that he'd had the chance to miss him. Wanted more time to bury himself in Damian before they had to move on to the next village and face a new set of trials. He bunched Damian's shirt in his fists as he pulled Damian against him, feeling him relent the control to Jon. He knew it was part of the apology. Jon pulled at his thighs and pulled Damian off of the floor, letting him wrap fully around Jon before he started walking them back to the bed. 

He dropped Damian onto the covers and popped the buckle on his belt but Damian sat forward and bat his hands away, pulling his belt off with a grace Jon would never be able to manage. He pulled Jon free with practiced hands and before he could say anything, Damian swallowed him down, all the way to the base and pulled off with a hard suck. Jon was rock hard in an instant, catching himself on Damian's shoulders when his knees threatened to buckle. He looked up at Jon with eyes impossibly green, almost all the way off of him save for his tongue curling against the scar on the underside of his penis where he had been circumcised. He'd never considered that a sensitive area until Damian took him in both hands and his thumb into it. Jon cursed and Damian swallowed him again. Damian kept his hands tight around Jon, focusing his mouth on the head of him as he pumped him. He was slick with spit, Damian's eyes glistening up at him after Jon bucked forward involuntarily. He coughed slightly and tried to take him again but Jon pulled the hair on the nape of his neck and ran a finger around his swollen lips before he crawled over him, tracing Damian's teeth with his tongue. 

They were a tangle of limbs as they struggled with their clothes. Jon couldn't even wait for Damian's pants to come fully off before he flipped him over and angled his ass up into the air. He took a moment to stare in awe at the perfect curve of Damian's back before his eyes moved down to his ass, perfect and pink and already twitching in anticipation. Jon ran his hands up his thighs and around to his dick as he leaned in to kiss him. 

And the familiar electricity rocked through them, connecting them in all ways through this warm string that fate had tied them together and had Damian rocking back onto Jon's tongue with a moan. He sucked at him and added a finger that was swallowed so quickly that Damian demanded another and another when that wasn't enough. Jon crawled over him, moving his fingers in the pace that Damian demanded and until he begged for more. 

Jon pulled his hand back and helped Damian the rest of the way out of his pants before he pulled him into his lap. It took no time to get them settled enough that Damain was sinking down onto him with breath hissing through his teeth. It had been too long since they had made love, Damian had to be stretched to accommodate him again and that would take time and care that Jon had every intention of spending. He kissed Damian slowly, savoring the static of his lips as he rocked into him raking his intent into Damian with his fingertips on his hips. He kept up the same torturous movement for-- he didn’t even know how long. But it just felt so good to hold him and be connected to him, Jon knew he could be here for hours more. He moved them, laying Damian out on the bed underneath him without moving out of him. Damian moaned when he pushed in deeper and gripped at him back, “Jon, please.” he whispered, eyes glowing green up at him. 

Jon kissed him again and continued his pace. “We have all day,” he reminded him as he slid in deep again. 

-

He felt like jello when it was finally dark out, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to catch what little breath he had left, Damian’s head on his shoulder as he traced his freckles some more. 

“If we are to win, you have to stop thinking of me as something you need to protect.” Jon blinked and turned his head to look at Damian but he was still tracing made up constellations into his skin. “You have spent your days in the cliffs, but I have spent mine in the ring. The Amazonians move as one. Two parts of one whole. There is no other way.” 

“What you ask of me is impossible," Jon muttered and turned back to the ceiling. “I’ve spent my whole life as your guard.” 

“And now you are my partner.” Damian grabbed his chin and pulled his face back to him, lights floating around in his eyes as their bond settled. “My King. We must fight Diana together if we want her help.” 

He frowned looking over the face that he knew so well. “You cannot expect me not take a sword for you.” 

“I do no such thing,” Damian told him. “But you must let me try and do the same for you in return.” 

“Damian…” 

“Promise me.” His eyes were hard and he would not let Jon turn away from him. He waited but when Jon didn’t say anything he shook him slightly. “Promise me, Jon.” 

He sighed, letting his eyes roll up and even though his gut told him that this was the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do, he agreed. He could not deny Damian. As much as he said that Jon was his king, that all felt like some make believe story from one of their childhood journals. It was a nice dream, but that was all that it could ever truly be. Damian could tell everyone who would listen that Jon was his and they would rule together, but he knew that once everything was said and done, blood would win. The collected people of Gotham would see that he was nothing more than a farmer and things would go back to how they were before. Only now they would know who he really was. 

But they would follow Damian and that would be enough. Jon promised him anyway because he had to and smiled into the kiss that it earned him. 

-

They spent the day with the women at the training grounds. Damian endured the teasing barbs as he fought. He could see the irritation rising in Jon. He leaned against him as they rested. He'd seen the women do it before. Jon immediately relaxed against him and Damian smiled as he looked up at him. 

"What is it my love? What is bothering you?" 

"They are insulting you," Jon said. Damian felt his hand curl around his side as if he could shield him from their words. 

"They are taunting me and they are testing  _ you _ ." 

"What?"

"I have chosen you. But if I am swayed…" He trailed off with a smirk as he looked out at the field. 

"I know what you're doing," Jon growled. But it did not stop him from taking up a sword and battling the women until everyone was sore. Damian limped back to their water and slumped down. 

"Can we do this?" he asked when Jon joined him after talking with a few of the older women. 

Jon nodded and offered him his hand. Damian took it and let him drag him back to the room. Damian fell asleep that night sore in a more pleasant way as Jon drooled onto his shoulder. 

A noise woke him. He opened his eyes and scanned the area in front of him before he dared to turn. 

It was there again. The light from the full moon that shone through the window caught and was trapped in the impossibility of its form. He watched silently as the figure hissed its son's name and reached out to him. He moved, expecting the pain that had happened when he'd been touched on the night of the storm, but instead warmth spread out across his chest. He could feel the hand spread out across Jon's sleeping form as if it was on his own. He touched his chest and the figure looked to him, startled. The blue of those eyes he'd felt watching over him his entire life were locked on him. 

"Thank you." He felt the brush of the words against his mind. "Valley-" the figure started to fade. He shook his head and almost reached forward, but he remembered the pain of touching him and held back. As a cloud moved before the moon and the figure faded he felt the faintest whisper of a touch on his mind, "The mist." 

He sat there in the middle of the bed knowing that he should wake Jon up and tell him what he'd seen. What he'd felt. But they had a battle they could not lose the next morning. He laid back down and curled around Jon, listening to the beat of his heart as he put his hand over the warmth fading in his chest. 

-

"Are you okay?" Jon asked as they got dressed. 

Damian nodded. He focused on the ties of his sandals. 

"I feel good. Better than I have in a while," Jon said. "That's good right?" 

"After this," he said. "I need to tell you something." 

"Tell me now?" Jon said. 

Damian shook his head and stepped into Jon's space. "You need your mind on this battle. When we win, we will talk." 

"Okay," Jon whispered. "Are you sure that you're okay?" 

"I am fine, my love." Jon stretched. Damian shook his head with a laugh. "You have forgotten your dagger," he said and knelt to wrap it around his leg. Jon watched him with a startled expression. He smiled as he looked up at him. "Are you ready?" 

Jon nodded. 

"Let us go," he said and took Jon's hand. 

-

There was a ceremony before the battle. The shaking of hands. The reciting of vows. Jon looked to Damian when they kneeled side by side as Diana said her part. He raised an eyebrow and Jon smiled. They could do this.

"If you are to lose this battle, you must leave this land and never return or face the wrath of the gods and their people." Damian looked at Diana in surprise. She gazed back at him, waiting. 

"And if you are to lose this battle, your queen and her people must fight alongside us when called," Jon said. Damian looked over to him. He squeezed his hand and they stood. 

Diana let them choose weapons and then picked up her sword and shield. He watched her check the weight of it. Barbara stepped between them when they stepped onto the field. The women, leaders of their lands, were far from the center watching. 

Jon had his own sword, shorter than the one Diana had used and a shield covering his forearm. Damian had drawn two thin blades. He'd caught Diana's eyebrow rise when he turned back with them. He had not done well with a shield. He waited for the blow instead of dodging, and took too long to strike after the blow struck the shield. Plus with Jon at his side he trusted that he would not need one. 

They started slow. Diana had not properly fought Jon. She dodged the flame Jon sent soaring from his sword as he struck out at her. Damian caught her before she could move away, but she blocked him with her shield. They moved in and out, slowly moving around the circle. Damian and Jon moving as one across the grass. Jon yelled and raised his sword. Diana moved to block and Damian moved forward. He heard her curse and dodged the sword swinging down at him. His blade glanced across her thigh, the first time he'd touched her with a blade. Her eyes were like fire as he returned to Jon's side. 

She did not hold back after that. The battle was constant moves and cries. He dodged a burst of fire that Diana managed to deflect. She yelled and Damian cried out for Jon as gold arced through the air. He saw the lasso wrap around Jon's leg and with another cry she flung him away. 

"I only need to defeat one of you," Diana said. Damian got back to his feet in a crouch, his only remaining sword, sat on the ground too far to reach. As the sword swung down a wall of light sprung up from the ground and her sword stopped. Damian looked across the green. Jon was already running back to them. Damian rolled out of the way as the wall shattered and Diana's sword swung where he'd been. He grabbed his blade and drove forward. He felt Jon's magic as if it was connected to him. He knew he was close. He could see the steps the final moves to their victory. Sometimes you must sacrifice a piece to win. 

Damian took the blow from the shield to give time for Jon to get back with his sword. His sword shattered against the might of the blow. He stumbled and fell as Jon passed him. He heard the clank of swords colliding above him and knew that Jon had blocked the strike meant for him. He moved, spun around Jon's side. The taste of victory sang through him like molten metal. He had breached her guard. The dagger he'd pulled from Jon's leg was pressed to her neck. They all froze. 

"I believe we have won, my Queen," he said as Diana's eyes widened. Her shield fell with a heavy thud and he stepped back. Jon's shoulder shifted in front of him as he stared at the sword still in her hand. All Damian held was a dagger and he could feel Jon's unease. She ducked her head. 

"The challenge has been met. You have earned the loyalty and sisterhood of the Amazons and their queen." 

She lifted her sword and offered it as she kneeled before them. They both reached out and took an end. Diana's eyes brightened as she looked up at them. She stood and took the sword back as she turned to her sisters. "Our loyalty has been won! Let us feast to honor the alliance." 

They were dragged along inside and placed at the head of the largest table he'd ever seen. Diana and Barbara sat next to them. 

"You fought well." 

"My shoulder says otherwise," Damian commented. 

Diana chuckled loudly. It was the freest he'd seen her since they arrived. She was boisterous with the adrenaline of battle still flowing through her veins. She complimented Jon in the strength of his blows. And admitted that his magic was the most vexing thing she'd faced. She told Jon to keep an eye on Damian. That his mind was going to get him into trouble one day. Jon grinned over to him and Damian relaxed under the attention. They ate and drank well into the afternoon, by the time they got back to their room. He was warm and full enough to last a lifetime. Jon fell onto the bed and held his hands up, wiggling them as if he could summon Damian between them. 

He crawled over into his lap and let Jon's hands rub patterns into his hips. 

"We must talk, my love." 

"We can talk later," Jon said, his hand already teasing its way under Damian's clothes. 

"I cannot keep this from you any longer." Jon stopped and looked up at the crack in Damian's voice. "I thought it was a dream at first. The storm playing tricks on my mind. I did not tell you because I did not want to cause you pain and I truly believed that I had imagined the entire thing." Jon's finger brushed over his chin and he looked up. 

"I believe you. What happened?" 

Damian swallowed. He let his chest fall against Jon's and held onto him as he spoke. "I have seen your father's spirit twice now." 

And with a sentence it was as if his father were freshly slain in front of him. He sat up and swallowed hard on the reaction that threatened to force his way out mouth before he could catch it. He focused on breathing and on the green eyes he had known and loved for almost two decades until he was calm enough to shake his head and say softly, "That cannot be possible." He did not trust his voice to speak any louder. 

"I thought the same." Damian urged as he sat up next to him. He held Jon's face as he spoke, keeping his eyes on him. "I did not think it could be real but I saw him again, Jon. He touched you and you woke so… whole. More you than I have seen in so long." He leaned forward and kissed his cheek as his soft words sliced straight into him. "I do not know how, and I do not know why. But he is still here. And he…"

Jon grabbed his wrists to anchor him. "Tell me," he urged him. 

"He was surprised that I could see him. He looked scared when he saw me looking at him and then he said something to me." Damian's eyes flicked down to his lap as he tried to remember, "He said… Thank you." Jon squeezed his wrist. "Then he said, 'Valley… the mist." 

"Valley… the mist," Jon repeated in question. Damian nodded and Jon closed his eyes for a moment trying to remember anything that his father had ever said to him that could turn those words into sense. His father had never mentioned a valley save for the one his mother had grown up in. And even then it was sparse and had nothing of the mist. "He never told me anything about such a valley."

Damian frowned and pulled his hands away, moving to get out of bed. "Maybe Diana-"

Jon grabbed his elbow and pulled him back. He frowned when he winced as his shoulder hit the bed. "Diana will know in the morning," he told him softly. His heart hurt and he could see Damian looking at him like he was crazy. "She's with her wife. And we have won a great battle." He put a soft hand over Damian's shoulder and pushed magic into it, feeling him relax slightly. "Let me heal you. If we are to go on another adventure, we have to rest." It only took a moment more of Jon muttering into his sore muscles for him to consent. 

-

He was glad they waited until the morning. Diana was still in her robes when they came to call, she looked tired but happy to see them, her leg elevated and Barbara was tending to the wound that Damian had given her the day before. "It is fine," Diana assured them when she saw Jon's eyes dart to it. "Now, what has our newest allies so troubled so soon after such a great victory?" 

He asked Barbara if he could assist her with her medicine and by the time Damian had finished relaying what he had told Jon last night her wound was nearly stitched back together. He was surprised when Diana did not question the specter. She sat silently as Jon finished his healing and when she was okay to stand she asked the boys to follow her to the library. They followed quietly and stayed silent as she searched through a few rolls of parchment until she found the one that she was looking for. Jon and Damian cleared the long table and she rolled a long map out in front of them.

Jon had never seen a map cover such a vast amount of land. He had seen Damian's maps, watched him study them carefully for years, but he had never seen one like this. He looked over to Damian who seemed equally if not more impressed. "Here." Diana's voice pulled him back to the map and he looked at the spot she was touching. It was at least four marks from where Themiscyra was on the map across a great ocean of sand. The sand led to another mountain range and a pass led into a small valley called the Valley of Mist. 

"It's real," Damian breathed in relief. But it was short lived. "And it's across the desert… of the-?" He looked up at Diana and she nodded. 

"Of the what?" Jon asked. 

“The League," Diana told him, her voice cool and even as they both watched Damian step forward, holding onto his own elbows as he looked down like he was afraid something would reach out and grab him. 

Jon had heard stories about the League of Assassins since he was a little boy. All around Gotham, when the sun had started to set, venders and pub workers would stick their heads out of the shops and warn them that if they didn’t hurry home they would be taken by the League. From the way that they had described it, these were dark men, stronger than Gotham’s bravest warriors and deadly silent. So silent that you never heard them until they already had you. Bruce had told Jon that it was only a story more than a few times when he had wandered back to the castle on dark nights, afraid to try and make it home. But when Jon took that idea to Damian he had always been quiet, never wanting to talk about the tall tale of masked men from the desert. “I thought the League of Assassins was a ghost story used to scare children to follow their curfews.” 

“It is a ghost story," Diana agreed still watching Damian as he studied the map with his back to them. “But that does not mean it is not true.” Hair stood up on the back of Jon’s neck.

“Have you been?” Damian asked softly, unturning. “To their hide out.” 

The queen pressed her lips together like it was against her better judgement to say, “Not for a very long time, my Prince. The ways of the Assassins are secret and any path to them is very difficult to find. You will not come across their dominion on a whim. Not unless they come for you.” 

“Then we will not go,” Jon said simply. He stepped up beside the map. “That is not our desired destination. If we can get an approximation on where they are, we can grant them a wide enough birth that we will not be detected.”

“Is that possible?” Damian asked Diana. 

“In theory," she offered and walked over to the other side. “We were blindfolded for most of the journey. Direction is impossible to tell.” 

“So no matter what, we run the possibility of running into the League.” Damian sighed and put a hand over his mouth like he always did when he was thinking up a plan of attack. 

“Do not forget that the pair of you are formidable opponents,” Diana told them, eyes glowing with pride. “It is not everyday I am defeated in battle, even the greatest of Assassins would find it very hard to take me down.”

“We were heading to the Eastern villages next,” Jon offered. “Either we take the dessert pass, or round back toward Gotham…” he traced the line that would take them back and they all watched in displeasure at how close it put them into the heart of the country. “So… what do we do?” He asked, the three of them exchanging looks. 

-

It only took them a day to pack what they needed for their journey. It felt strange to Jon to be back in his own clothes, out of the long tunics and strappy sandals and back to his trousers and leather boots and best guard. He bundled up the last of the rucksacks as Damian went with Barbara to the library to see if there were any maps that would be useful to them. Diana had promised them two of her finest horses to help them on their journey, but still he was surprised when she had two of her ladies returned with two of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. One was so white that it was almost gold, it’s coat glowing in the sun, while the other was black as sin. 

Diana led the white stead to him and smiled at his wide eyed stare. “He is beautiful, is he not?” She asked as she helped him strap on the saddle and bags. “You know, your father used to have a horse just like this.”

Jon blinked at that. “He did?” 

She nodded and focused on her knots. “I remember thinking that he was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. And it was easy to see the affection and trust that your father had built between them. I thought surely this man cannot be a bad one. So I asked for the name of his steed.” She laughed and shook her head. “He called him Dirt.” Jon smiled and she shook her head pushing him. “I knew that would amuse you. The name was so hideous I could not speak.” 

“Did he tell you why he named him that?” Jon asked eager for anything of his father. He was glad that Damian had gotten to explore his, read his father’s words and develop and understand that was deeper for him-- but Jon missed his father. He missed the man that had always been there with his soft words and his large hands that always caught the rain before it could overwhelm him. He had hoped that maybe he would find something of his father’s here as well. Had spent a day looking for anything, small pieces of his stay left behind… but there wasn’t anything to find. 

It felt stupid to admit that he was jelous. Jealous that Damian had gotten to see his father’s spector and not him-- but as soon as he thought that, Jon knew he could never envy Damian for that. He had been so torn, and Jon knew he would give anything to trade his mind in that moment. 

Diana smiled like she understood without him having to say anything more. “He told me that he named him Dirt because he was impossible to dispatch. That no matter the battle or the travel that he would never leave.” She brushed a stray strand of hair behind Jon’s ear and looked at him. “You look so much like him, but more and more every day I find that you are as far different from your father as it is possible to be.” He hadn’t expected that. It felt like a slap to his face instead of gentle words. “Clark was not a hard man. But he was far more broken than you will ever know. His duty lay with his kingdom, while yours is still in your heart.” She frowned and took his hand, squeezing it. “Do not let go of that. Love gets us through the darkest of nights, when all else is lost, love is there. And your ability to conjure it is your greatest weapon.” 

Damian and Barbara were back before Jon could fully process her words, and before he even realised what was happening, he and Damian mounted their steads and wished the queens and their court farewell until the battle came. Jon left her with a letter for his mother and one for the Tameranians that were waiting at the waterfront to let them know that the Amazons were their ally and to alert them should anything happen while they were traveling.

He watched the shore line as they turned back towards the small shield of forest that would leave them towards the desert wondering if they would ever make it back to see it again one day when this was all over. He looked over at Damian, riding just behind him, a frown on his face as he watched the perfect blue waves. “We will come back," Jon promised him. “The water will still be warm and blue.” 

“And the war will be over,” Damian added, but he couldn’t hide the small hint of question in his tone. 

Jon hummed and pulled his eyes away from the water and faced the path ahead. Yes the war would be over. One way or another, it would be done. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late. I've been struggling to write the last few weeks, but I finally managed it last night and realized halfway through that I still needed to edit this chapter. Selfishly I wrote to get past the little wall I'd built in my head.
> 
> I hope you like this chapter. My favorite part is coming up next. XP
> 
> -DNA


	15. Chapter 15

Damian saw the Amazons trailing behind them, escorting them to the edge of their borders. He watched as they stopped and circled. When he looked over to Jon he was watching them too. They were on their own. They had nearly a day's ride north through the mountains before the split. 

The air was thin as they followed the pass further up into the mountains. Damian was tired when they reached the small gap in the rocks. It was barely big enough for their horses, and if he had not been dreading its appearance he would not notice it. 

Jon stopped before him, he knew the words that he would say before he even turned. 

"Diana said to stay on the mountain pass," Damian reminded him. 

"It takes us closer to the castle. And we don't know what we'll face at the great bridge." 

"We don't know what we'll face out there either," he said and gestured to the side. 

"It will save us nearly a week of travel," Jon pointed out, like Damian hadn't reluctantly said that the day before. 

Damian frowned and looked at the pass that cut sharply down. He had agreed with Diana that they should stick to the mountain pass. Though Jon eventually agreed as well, Damian could see that he only gave in because he was outnumbered. "We'll stay on the mountain pass," Damian said in his most practiced voice. He knew Jon hated it when he used it on him, but he wouldn't go down that path.

Jon stared at him, eyes searching his face before he nodded and they continued on. He knew that Jon would ask. He just wanted to wait until Damian had relaxed. He didn't think he would be able to so close to the desert.

Jon slowed when voices rose over the echoing of their horse's hooves. Damian's hand lowered to the dagger that was holstered to his thigh. As they rounded the corner the voices revealed themselves to be a group of travelers. He could see why they had stopped there. The path way widened greatly. Even with the group spread out into a corner there was space for Damian and Jon to ride side by side through the space. There was also a tiny stream of water coming down from the higher in the mountains. Someone had shoved a bowl beneath it and water was slowly filling the basin. 

One of the voices let out a sharp cry. Before Damian could stop him Jon called out, "Do you need any help?" 

Two heads quickly turned. Damian took in the man who stood a head shorter than Jon, deep brown eyes burrowing into them both. The other were light green. The woman looked them over. Damian frowned at the flirtatious wink she gave him. He was certain she was a whore, her clothes barely covered any of her, and bright dust was smeared around her eyes.

"That looks bad," Jon said and slid off his horse. Damian sighed. "I have some herbs that could help." Damian was relieved that he hadn't walked up and offered to heal the injured man's leg with his glowing hands. Jon shook the bag Barbara had given him. The man with the dark eyes waved him forward. Damian stood behind him with his hand at his side, waiting for something to go wrong.

"I'm Yuli," the woman said. Her voice was high and light. "What are your names?" 

"I'm Jon. And this is-" Damian kicked his leg before he could say his name. Jon shot him a look. 

"What happened?" Damian asked. Yuli didn't seem to care that she hadn't gotten a name. 

"We were attacked at the Bridge crossing," the dark eyed man responded. "The guard have taken refuge in their battlements and refuse to let anyone pass."

"They shot my poor Master," Yuli said and brushed her fingers over the injured man's hand. 

Jon rubbed the herbs into the man's skin and looked at Damian. He knew that the look was his way of telling Damian he'd been right. 

"Are you going to travel across the desert?" Jon asked. 

"Oh no," Yuli said. "We will go back once night has fallen and cross further down the river where they cannot see us." 

"Is that safe?" Jon asked. 

"We have done it many times before," the man replied. 

"Where are you headed?" Yuli asked. 

"North," he answered before Jon could. Damian saw the man shoot Yuli a look and her mouth fell shut. She leaned down and whispered softly into the injured man's ear. They worked quietly and Damian relaxed when Jon stood up. He tugged him away from the trio. They stepped over to the bowl of water. Jon pulled the bowl away from the fall of the water before he put his hand in the stream to wash off the blood on his fingers. 

"What?" Jon hissed. 

"They are strangers," Damian replied just as quietly. 

"They needed help." 

"Are we going to stop for everyone that needs help?" He asked. Jon frowned at him, but didn't reply. He looked over to the group and the man and Yuli were doing the same as they were. 

"Hey," the man called. "We were about to eat. Join us. It is the least we can do." Jon smiled and thanked him. Damian followed him back to the group and sat down begrudgingly. 

They ate and laughed and joked, but Damian couldn't join in. His mind was on the desert lying on the other side of the rock and the witch after him on the other. 

"The quickest path north is through the desert pass," the man said. Damian turned and realized it was an answer to a question Jon had asked. "You must have came by the trail down to the pass." 

"It is not safe," Damian said. "There are assassins in the desert."

The man laughed. "That is a tale Gotham has spread to keep people from crossing the desert. They want to collect their toll to use the bridge." 

"Then why do you not travel across it?" Jon asked. 

"We are not traveling north," the man replied. 

Jon looked over at Damian as the man continued to talk about the way they must follow or risk getting lost. Damian listened, but let his eyes drift past their horses to the disappearing path behind them. 

"I know," Damian said and turned his horse to head back the way they came when their meal was finished. 

"I still want to say it, I don't get to say it very often." 

"Fine," Damian sighed and pulled himself up onto his saddle. 

"I was right," Jon crowed as he did the same. 

Damian shook his head and rode forward to hide the grin at Jon's joy. 

It was night by the time they got to the base of the mountains. Jon looked out into the dark, but Damian pulled him over to the side of the trail. They set camp silently and Damian leaned against Jon's arm as he kept watch. It was still dark when Jon woke him. He straightened and yawned before looking out at their horses and the dark beyond them. Jon fell asleep with his head in his lap. Jon let Damian sleep a little more as they resumed their trek in the early morning. By midday it was too hot, and he was too uncomfortable to sleep any more. They kept going. He knew they could not stop, the heat would not. Diana had given them jugs of water and they sloshed half full behind him. 

"Look, there is the rock and the pond," Jon said. He was smiling as they walked closer. Jon pointed out the signs that it was a well used place and they were careful as they refilled their jugs. Damian looked around, suddenly struck as he remembered a line he'd read in one of his mother's old journals. 

_ No matter how hard the god tried. Nothing would grow. In a fit of anger he drove his sicle into the earth and water began to weep from the wound.  _

"Let's go," Damian said. He did not want to be here anymore. 

Jon slid back into his saddle and they rode on. Jon rested first as they continued through the night. Follow the red star, the man had said. Damian followed it. He ignored the strange feeling in his chest as they walked through the dark. The whispers that the wind brought with it. He ignored it all. Nothing but the star in the sky and the ground in front of him mattered. 

"Do you want to take your turn?" Jon asked when the silhouette of the moon was high above them, barely visible through the clouds. Damian shook his head. He couldn't sleep. The whispers had caught his attention again. 

"It's nice out here at night."

"It's quiet," Damian replied. 

"That's what's so nice," Jon said with a grin. "No birds or bugs to make any noise."

Damian jerked when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. But when he looked there was nothing there. Jon asked him if he was seeing things with a laugh. Damian let out a shaky laugh. Maybe he was working himself up for nothing. 

Damian's head started to droop with exhaustion. He jerked as his head lolled heavily onto his chest. 

"You should-" 

Damian heard the twang of the bow. His heart stopped and he looked to Jon, but the arrow did not strike him like he'd feared. It struck the ground at his horse's feet. The horse bucked violently as another landed and Damian was thrown to the ground. 

"Damian!" 

He started to tell him that he was okay, when he felt someone move next to him. He turned, saw the bright white of eyes before they struck. He struggled and he heard the chaos that was Jon trying to reach him. Cloth covered his head, a sweet scent filled his nose and his mouth. It coated his tongue and his muscles grew heavy. He pushed off a hand. Couldn't move to dislodge the next. As his mind went hazy and dark he heard Jon yell for him. 

-

"Have you finally woken?" 

Damian opened his eyes and winced. His head hurt. He reached up to touch it, but his hands were stopped by the clatter of chains. He tugged and the chains shook again. He felt his chest growing tighter as he realized that he was chained to the floor, his legs and arms connected to a single hoop embedded in the ground. He stopped moving and looked at the man crouched a few feet in front of him. His chest was bare, though black silk sleeves hung from a thick band around his neck. An emerald sat in the middle, bigger than any he'd seen before. Expertly embroidered pants clung to a thin waist and hugged lean legs. But the clothes were not what struck him. It was the eyes. Bright blue like so many from his home. The man watched him with a curious expression. Damian stared at him back as the pain in his head started to ease and his vision focused better on his surroundings. He was in a cell, though the door was not locked. The walls looked carved into the stone. He couldn't see any seams or breaks in it except the single doorway. 

"You look familiar," the man said. Damian was surprised how well he spoke his native tongue. Even Diana's words had been heavily accented. The man's head tilted as his eyes traveled down his chest and back. "It's the eyes." 

"The child died." Damian jerked, the chains clattering loudly as he turned. There was a man leaning against the wall behind him. He hadn't noticed him at all. He was tall, possibly taller than Jon. The same blue eyes looked back at him, though his lacked the curiosity of the first man. 

"Rumor." Damian felt that it was unwise to turn his back to the tall man, but he did it anyway. The man in silk had moved closer. Damian jerked back, but lightning fast fingers grasped his chin. He couldn't resist as they turned his head side to side. Damian grit his teeth as he strained against it. "He is wearing royal colors." 

"Black?" the tall man asked, sounding unimpressed. Damian wanted to correct him, but held his tongue.

"It is the silver," the man pointed out. His hand was grasped and his sleeve held up even as the manacle bit into his arm. "This edging. Pure silver thread. It's only used on Gotham's royalty." 

There was silence and the man's eyes flashed in excitement before they returned to Damian. 

"Do you speak?" 

His chin was released. Damian glanced over his shoulder then back to the man. "Who are you?" 

That got a vicious grin. 

"Who are we? We are the League of Assassins, of course." The man stood. He was short, but Damian knew it would be a mistake to underestimate him. He did not know why, but he felt it as sure as he did the metal around his wrists. "Now, who are you?" 

He shifted, so his knees were under him. His arms were stuck at his side, chains stretched as far as they would go. But his head was held high. "Damian, Prince of Gotham and Heir to the Demon's Head."

"He is an idiot. Let me kill him," the man behind him said. 

"No. I don't think he is." He saw blue eyes search over him before the man frowned. "What is your game?" 

"I am not traveling alone." Damian smiled. "My love has come for me. And he is angry." He could feel Jon's fury rising within his chest as he got closer. 

It was then that he heard the shouts and cries echoing down the hall. The man behind him cursed and rushed out of the cell, swords sliding from his palms as he stepped through the doorway.

"Perhaps we should take this to a different venue," the man said. " _ My _ love does so enjoy space when he's fighting. And it has been a long time since I've had the pleasure of watching him work." One of the chains was pulled and Damian's face hit the ground as his arms were brought up against a thick band of metal around his neck that he had not noticed. He was dragged forward and barely made it to his feet before they were heading down the hall in a quick march. He saw cell by empty cell. They all had the same hoop in the ground and the doors were wide open. His mother's words came to him again. 

_ I watched children, still crying for their mothers, chained and weeping in the dirt.  _

Damian pushed away the sour feeling in his stomach. He was not a child. Jon was not far. He would reach him. He was jerked forward and his knees hit the dirt floor. The same hoop that had held him in the cell now tied him to the dirt floor of a giant room. He felt slack in his arms and pulled them back down to his sides. 

"I watched my love become the strongest warrior in our land in that pit over there. He has only gotten stronger since then. What makes you think that your boy has any hope against our Champion?" 

"Because he loves me." 

It was a simple statement and one that Damian was surprised he believed for as far down within himself as he could follow it. Jon would come for him. He would save him. They had not made it back to the willow trees, and Jon had promised. 

He looked over to the man. He did not laugh or brush off the comment. He just looked at Damian like he had said something of interest. 

He heard his name shouted. It was faint, but he could hear it and he shifted trying to look for the source, for Jon. He felt his body singing as Jon drew ever closer. He could feel their bond coming to life and the fire igniting within him, calling for Jon to find him. 

"Also, there is the magic," he said and looked up at the man standing next to him. He could feel the power lighting him up from the inside. 

\---

Jon had been an idiot to think anything about the desert was 'nice'. 

He woke feeling dizzy and lightheaded as the night lay black and inky around him, making the spots in his vision look like gaps in the sand. He put his hand up to the aching spot on the back of his head and it came away tacky with old blood. Jon cursed and his horse nudged at his face. He grabbed its reigns surprised that he had stayed. He saw Damian's horse free of It's rider not far behind. Jon grimaced and shoved himself out of the sand. He was surprised when a dark hand reached out to grab his ankle and he kicked at the cloaked head. The man grimaced and Jon pulled the dagger that Damian had given him from his calf and kicked the man over, pulling at his mask until his face was exposed. He was handsome. At least a decade older than Jon with dark skin, golden eyes and three small scars stripped down his forehead. Jon remembered his eyes. He had been closest to him when they pulled the bag over Damian's head and he'd just managed to take him down before he'd lost consciousness. 

The man said something, something that Jon could not understand, but the intent was there in his flaming eyes. "You came for my beloved. Why?" He demanded, blade pressed to his neck. The man grunted again and spit in Jon's face. Rage singed through him and he pressed the knife closer knowing that this was the part where he should kill him-- but he couldn't. 

Killing this man would do nothing for him. Damian had already been taken to god knows where and this man was just as left behind as he was. Jon pulled the man up and muttered a spell, watching his face twisted in fear of the light in his eyes and the magic that wrapped around him like rope. But when it didn't crush him he looked warily at Jon. He ignored it. Helping the man into Damian's horse and trying it to his own before he urged them forward. He couldn't feel the bond. The thin line that always connected them was gone and it made him ache with worry. 

He took a breath not knowing which way to start as he closed his eyes.  _ Ask the goddesses.  _ That's what Artemis would say. So he held out his hand and breathed whispering, "Point me," to the empty night. 

At first nothing happened. His brow creased in frustration but he forced it back out through his body. The power of the gods was not his to command. He had only been given the power to ask for their guidance. He asked again, heart aching with emptiness, "Please," he begged, "tell me what to do." The breath ran out of him as a warmth washed over him and he suddenly knew what he needed to do. He urged the horses forward, reaching out with his magic to feel at the man's intentions. It told him when he was making a wrong turn and he corrected, and the closer he got to the right path, the more alarmed the man became. 

The stars got heavier the further they traveled but the horses showed no sign of fatigue. And air seemed to still as they crossed into the assassins territory and it made it all the easier to hear the attacks as they came. He threw up a sheild as arrows flew in, stopping them in mid air as he felt the bond snap back into place. Rage built in him, the fire threatening to blow outward. He charged forward to the almost Hidden mouth of the cave, jumping from his horse and into the crowd of warriors that were there. He didn't have time to waste there. He could feel Damian now, an ache in his head and a flutter of exhaustion. Who knew what they were doing to him. 

They moved on Jon and he just barely got his sword out to stop the first blow, reaching out with his free hand to throw out a push of magic strong enough that everyone to his right flew back and hit the wall. He was surprised when no one hesitated but didn't let that stop him, pushing his way forwards by the thread that connected him to Damian. 

It was all a blur. A clash of swords and magic pulling Jon further and further underground until he was in the dungeon and the last of the men was laying at his feet. He ran forward, side screaming at him where one of the men had hit his scar and the wound on the back of his head was leaking again. 

He slowed when he felt Damian just down the hall, their connection pulsing, dragging him closer one step at a time as he caught his breath. Air burned like fire in his lungs. There were people talking, he recognized Damian's voice and it took everything in Jon's power not to finish the sprint and grab him. But Jon had felt them moving away, if they had stopped that meant they would be ready for him and he couldn't afford to fall into a trap. He stopped at the curve of the alley, clutching his sword tight in his left hand. He pulled the long dagger Ka'tham had given him when they were at the border and kept it braced to his arm like his father had taught him what felt like ages ago. 

Jon had never been half the swordsman his father was. He'd heard so many stories from the guards who had known his father all their lives that he had been the most talented swordsman in all of Gotham. Tricky and gruesome and so strong he could shatter his opponents defenses in one blow. So good that he didn't need his magic. 

But that wasn't Jon. 

" _ A little spell goes a long way. _ " His father's voice echoed in his head. " _ Too much can make you slow. The trick is to be lighter on your feet _ .  _ Only use it when it is necessary.  _ " 

He charged magic into his finger tips, just enough to have at the ready as he braced himself and charged forward towards the opening, calling Damian's name as he ran. It was hard to keep his magic down now that he could see Damian chained and on the floor. Furry raged in him. 

He aimed his blow towards the smaller man, the chains gripped in his hands. He blinked surprised, but the blow never connected, a glowing blade catching the edge of his own. It threw him back, and he just managed to block the second sword with his dagger as he spun to the side to reposition. The man didn't give him any time to catch his breath before he hurled himself forward. 

Jon had never seen any man fight this way. He lashed out blow after blow but his blade only ever met open air. It was as if the man was one with the sand, turning and jumping away with the lightest brush of his feet. He jumped away from Jon, landing with on hand to the ground and smirking up at him like he had already won. And Jon knew that he would. He was the better swordsman, the stronger player. If he was going to win, he had to think like Damian. 

He looked over at him just for a moment and he saw Damian's eyes widen, his lips moving to tell Jon to move. But he waited just long enough to pull his sword hard upwards, knocking the man far enough off balance that he could kick him hard in the chest and force him to the ground. 

As soon as his arms met the dirt, Jon dropped the dagger down and shoved his hand into the rocky earth. He didn't need words for his furry to wrap the stone around his arms, rendering him trapped and defenseless. Jon stepped up to him and let his blade lick his collarbone as he turned his glare to the smaller man who looked both shocked and furious as he clutched the ring that held Damian's chains in his hands. "Don't you dare touch him." The man growled in surprisingly good Gotham dialect, pulling at Damian's chains. 

Jon pressed his blade down, drawing a thin line of blood that made his stomach churn. "Give me what is mine and we will go." He promised through his gritted teeth. He watched the man's eyes flicker down to the man in the dirt and then back up. He held his blade firmer still. And without moving his eyes from the man he said, " _ Riˈlēs _ ." The chains holding Damian away from him dropped to the ground and he brushed himself off, walking calmly forward as Jon tried to keep from panting in sheer exhaustion. It was too dark out. Even though he had been in the sun for days, he could feel the last of his strength slipping away from him. Damian grabbed onto Jon's arm, holding him up as discreetly as he could so not to let on to his weakness. 

"Are you hurt?" He asked Damian under his breath. 

"No, but you are." He complained not looking him over, but he knew Damian could feel exactly where his body ached. 

"You have your Prince," the man said unhappily. "Now release mine." He said it so smoothly, his face still like it didn't matter. But Jon could tell that there was a real panic under the facade. 

Jon could hear echoes coming from the chamber behind them, the men he'd knocked out along the way starting to come too. If they were going to leave they have to leave now. He handed Damian his sword. He had to pull on Damian's strength to peel the rock away from the man he had trapped. His knees meeting his hand on the ground from exertion. The man ran back to what was presumably his master as Damian dropped down next to Jon. But as soon as his sword was down, the man turned away from the one in black. A sword appeared in his hand from thin air and it was at Jon's throat in an instant. There was a furry in his eyes, pure rage that Jon had never seen. 

"Jason." The other man said calmly but it was a warning. 

"He killed Tiger." He said so quiet that Jon almost missed it. "And all of those men like it was nothing."

"No he did not." 

They turned back to see a giant of a man, so large that he couldn't be real. He was in the same kind of warriors garb that the man, Jason, was. A thick plate over his chest. His eyes were pit black and alien, nothing about him like anything they had seen before. And yet Jon felt that he'd know the man his entire life. He looked only at Jon and that almost distracted him from the man at his side, the one he had left with the horses. He looked at Jon and Damain as he walked forward and put his hand over Jason's, lowing the blade. He spoke to him in short clipped sentences and Damain pulled Jon closer to him not taking his eyes off of the men, the hit of Jon's sword clutched tight in his hand. 

He watched as the tension fell out of his expression. "You didn't kill any of them." He said looking at Jon like he couldn't quite figure it out. He could almost feel the sigh Damian was holding in. 

"I came for Damain. I have no other quarrel with your people." He panted and grabbed his side when it twinged.

The man in the scant black sleeves stepped forward and put his hand on Jason's shoulder. He looked only at Damian, blue eyes looking wrong in this cave. "Your love is a fool." He told him. But the way that he said it sounded off, like there was a fondness for the word. Jason let his sword disappear. His eyes traveled over to Jon. "An injured fool." He looked over their heads at the man with black eyes. "Biz?"

He walked forward and kneeled at Jon's side, offering Damian a warm smile that looked out of place in the darkness. "Will no hurt." He promised Damian and helped him get Jon to his feet. Damian kept the sword at the ready. "Come. I fix." The man promised and pulled them gently back out the door. 

Jon started to feel more like himself the longer Damian held him. He watched the environment around them shift as they exited the tunnels and made their way up to the grander part of the cavern. It was bright, but not like the Hidden city. This cavern was lit by fire and gold, no magic to be seen. The morning must have come for the street and the small bizarre around them was coming to life, merchants stopping as they set up their shops to watch them as they passed. He noticed the air shift as Jason and the black sleeved man passed. The air of respect that followed them through the city and up to the grand hall that they lead them into. They did not stop there, leading them off to the tunnels at the side and stopping towards the very end at a small door. They opened it, letting them into a large room with an ornate bed and a deep crater in the floor. 

"The water from our springs is said to have rejuvenating abilities." The dark sleeved man told them as Jason and the other man, Tiger stood at the door. The large man helped Damian set Jon on the edge of the bed before retreating to stand with the others. "We will have clothes and the belonging from your horses brought to you." He said and turned his sharp eyes to Damian. "Rest and tend to your Champion,  _ Prince of Gotham. Heir to the Demon's head. _ " The way his smile licked those words sounded like a curse. "There is much that we have to discuss." And with that he turned on his heals and the party left them to their own devices- but not before he heard the door lock behind them.

Damian helped Jon over to the edge of the bath. Jon was exhausted. Damian could feel it in the ache of his own body. He soaked a rag and ran it over his own wrists. He waited for the water to crackle or burn, for it to be some trick, but nothing came. He sighed and tilted Jon's head forward. He could see the tacky remnants of blood matting his hair and took his time rinsing it out. He kept wiping over Jon's skin, pulling Jon's clothing off as he went. 

"Why are you frowning?" Jon asked. 

"You are bleeding," Damian said and wiped across a shallow cut on his shoulder. "Because of me." 

"I have before." 

"I did not like it then anymore than I like it now," Damian hissed and threw the dirty rag in the water. "I was meant to get stronger so you would not have to protect me and yet I was captured no more than a three day's ride away from our allies." 

"Damian," Jon said. He turned away from him. 

"I do not like it. I do not like seeing you hurt. I would forbid it if I thought you would listen." 

Jon chuckled. "I would not." 

"I know that. It is the most frustrating thing about you." 

"My devotion frustrates you?" Jon asked with a laugh. Damian pulled his shirt off and set it aside before sliding out of his pants and into the warmth of the water. 

"When it makes you foolish and gets you injured, yes." Damian looked up at Jon. "Now come. You are cold." 

"You could just ask me to kiss you," Jon said as he slid into the water. Damian slid forward and leaned into the circle of his arms. Jon's weight shifted until Damian was supporting them both as Jon's lips slid against his own. He felt some of Jon's exhaustion lift at the touch of his fingers. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the water surrounding them and the bond within. 

They moved together from the water to the bed. Their hands never leaving each other's skin. Damian laid Jon down and climbed over him. He kissed him deeply before taking him in with a slow roll of his hips. Jon let out a small noise and Damian couldn't have agreed more. He felt whole again. The bond bright and singing beneath his skin, as pleased as they were to be back in each other's embrace. He came with a cry, Jon's voice was an echo of his. He touched Jon's cheek. "Your eyes."

Jon pulled him down next to him and kissed him. "Yours shine like they did in the cave every time."

-

Damian woke to blue eyes smiling down at him. Not the ones he had fallen asleep to or that he had expected to wake up to. Jon's nose pressed against his neck as he shifted in his sleep. 

"Did you enjoy yourselves?" The man asked with a knowing grin. He tugged the blanket up over him when blue eyes trailed down his chest. His glare brought a laugh. "Don't worry. My heart is spoken for." 

The man stood and took a few steps away from the bed. His bare feet pushed at a bundle of clothes with disinterest. He was wearing green and it shimmered under the light from the lanterns. 

"I don't think I formally introduced myself." 

"No," Damian replied. "You were too busy dragging me through the tunnels." Damian felt Jon's arms tighten around him as he woke up. 

"I'm sorry. Did you skin your knee? I could kiss it and make it better." There was a tone to his voice that Damian didn't like. Jon liked it even less. His hands tightened around his middle and a fire burned in his chest. "Anyway. I was introducing myself." The man looked at Jon. "Actually. I never did get your name."

"Jon."

"No. I got that. This one yelled it loud enough to summon all of my men to us if they had been conscious. Your family name." 

"Kent?" 

"A Kent. Then you really are a Wayne," the man said to himself. He turned and looked at Jon. "Do the Kents still grow sunflowers?" 

"Y-yes?" Jon replied. He sounded as confused as Damian felt. 

"I do miss the smell." 

"You know the Kents?" 

"I was a child of Gotham before I came here." 

"We both were," the tall man said, Damian hadn't heard him enter the room. "I told you not to come here without me," he said quietly to the man, but the room was not big enough to swallow his whispers. 

"I wanted to speak with them myself. But that moment has passed." The man sighed. "I am Master of these lands, leader of the league, the Demon's Head. You can call me Tim though. This is my commander and champion, Jason." Tim paused for a moment. Then his head tilted slightly and his eyes narrowed. "Dress for the day. We will send for you shortly. I hope that you have managed to work up an appetite."

The men turned together, in perfect sync and walked to the door. Jason pulled it open and Damian saw a small smile as Tim stepped out. 

"They still grow sunflowers," Tim said quietly as he passed. 

"I know, my love. I heard." He watched as they swayed closer and Jason's hand brushed over the embroidery around Tim's waist. Then the moment was gone and they were walking out the door. 

-

The giant pushed open the door as Jon was tying the empty sheath of his dagger to his leg. They had returned the empty sheath to them letting them know that they were not returning their weapons. The sword had disappeared from the room during the night. Jon gripped Damian's hand tightly as they followed the giant through the maze of the city. 

The giant pushed double doors open and they walked into a room with a single step that lifted a throne above the others. Jason was sitting on the seat and Tim was perched on the arm looking down at him. They both turned as the door opened. Damian tried not to stare, but he had never seen two men together before. Tim smiled and slid from the arm into Jason's lap with a grin when Jason grunted before he walked across the room to greet them. Jason's hand was on the sword at his side, Jon's sword and he watched Jon as Tim got closer. 

"Come. Sit," he gestured to a table already filled with food. Damian's mouth watered at the sight. Jon stayed between Jason and Damian as they moved to the table. Tim watched them with an amused smile. They sat and Damian hesitated for a moment before grabbing a fruit he knew Jon liked and setting it before him. He picked up a loaf of bread and split it between them. Jon looked at him and then took a bite as Damian did. If this was his last meal it was worth it. Jon placed a sweet Damian had a weakness for in front of him and Damian made a noise in his throat as he picked it up. 

"Those are my favorite too," Tim volunteered. 

Damian had the sweet in his mouth before he could stop. He mumbled through the crumbs. 

"What was that?" Tim asked. 

"Why are you doing this? You tried killing us yesterday," Damian asked after swallowing. 

"You spared my love. And in return I offer my hospitality." 

The door opened and the man that had come to Jon's defense before stepped in. A small woman followed him in. He saw the panic in Tim's eyes before he stood. His eyes went to Jason. He saw him move his hands. Then do it again. Tim frowned and looked at Jon. All of the  _ hospitality _ was gone from his eyes. The woman spoke only to Tim and in a voice so quiet Damian would not have believed she had even spoken if her mouth had not moved. 

Tim turned as the woman left the room. His eyes locked on Jason. He saw something pass between them. 

"Our champion has been defeated in battle. The Al Blades have returned to the Al Caste until our strongest warrior claims them," Tim said this to Jason. His words wavered once before his eyes closed. He took a breath and turned to the man. "Inform the men. The tournament begins at the height of the full moon." Damian watched as the man slipped from the room and pulled the door shut. Tim's eyes flicked to Jon. There was a flash of movement. 

"Tim!" 

Jon leaned back from the table where the dagger Damian had given him was stuck. Jason was holding on to Tim. "You cannot. He must be part of the challenge."

"What?" Jon asked. 

Tim growled and stalked back to his throne. Jason watched him for a moment before letting out a breath. "Our strongest warrior is gifted with their weapons by the gods themselves. We hold a tournament. Our strongest warriors will fight for the honor of being called champion and the chance to summon the al blades. By defeating me, you have earned your place within the tournament."

"What?" Jon repeated. "But I didn't- I wasn't trying to- I don't want to be your champion. I just wanted Damian back."

"It does not matter. The blades no longer find me worthy," Jason said. 

“He cheated.” Tim snapped even as Jason said it. “You would have killed him if not for his  _ magic _ .” he hissed out the final word like it was a curse. 

Damia stiffened next to Jon, his hands gripping at the edge of the table. “Jon had your champion bested before he ever trapped him.”

“He held him  _ with _ the ground!”

“He put him there with his sword!” Damian all but shouted as he stood, leaning towards the smaller man whose chest was heaving with rage. “If this is a matter of skill, my King is bested by no one.” Damian told him, eyes shining with pride as he looked down at Jon whose face burned at the praise and the title. “But we do not have the time to waste on your tournament.” 

“It does not matter.” Jason told them before Tim could speak again, his shoulders raised almost to his ears as he took in a breath to shout back at them. He silenced Tim with a look and then turned back to Jon who was now the only one that was still sitting at the table. “The law of the Al Caste is divine. The tournament starts on the full moon, one compeditor against the other in combat to the death. You have bested me, the reigning champion. Regardless of how, you are now required to take part in our tournament. If you do not compete, no one can win.” 

Jon swallowed trying not to let the dread in his stomach show. “And if I refuse?” 

Tim took his spot next to Jason and crossed his arms. He looked over his shoulder and Jon felt big hands pull him out of his chair. Damain let out a noise of protest, but the giant did not hurt Jon. He simply took his arm and clamped a delicately carved golden brace onto his arm. As soon as it locked, Jon felt the jolt rush through him and as he examined it further Jon recognised the carvings as runes of new magic. He looked into the monster man’s eyes and saw that there was regret looking back at him. 

“I am afraid that is not an option.” Tim said simply.

There was a fire in Damian’s eyes. A rage that Jon had never seen before. He lunged forward, pulling a knife off of the table, ready to launch himself over it when the giant caught him and hugged Damian tight to his chest. Tim and Jason hadn’t even flinched. Tim watched Damian struggle with bored amusement as Jon pulled at his magic, ready to take the giant down-- but it didn’t come. He looked back at Tim who smirked and turned back towards the throne. “See our guests back to their room Biz. Anything they need, please see that they have it.” 

Jon had no option but to follow after Biz as he carried Damian back down the hall, still struggling against the hold he had on him. He looked at the open doorway as the giant held it open for him trying to decide if letting himself be imprisoned was the right move. But with Damian still being held and his magic sealed, Jon knew that there was no real choice here. He stepped inside and the giant pushed Damian in after him and shut the door. It locked behind them again and Damian slammed his hand on the door with a frustrated shout. Jon watched him as he kicked at it until he was sated and then he looked down as the brace again. He hadn’t felt any magic in the throne room after the older woman had left. Only his own. How had they been able to sneak this on him? 

“This is ridiculous.” Damian seethed pacing back over to him. “Just blow the door down and let us leave before they decide to take our heads in the night.” 

“I can’t.” Jon said softly. 

Damian did not hear him. “How can they expect you to fight to the death for a title you have no desire for? You beat their champion with no one there to see it. Let them do what they must with that. We can’t waste any more time here.” He stopped pacing and looked back at him with a frown. “Jon?” 

“I can’t.” Jon said again. 

“Can’t what?” 

“I can’t feel my magic.” he told him, hand holding the cuff on his wrist. 

Damain’s eyes widened and frowned at him as he pushed his way forward and pulled his wrist out of his hand so that he would look at it. He pulled at the latches, frowning when they would not give way, but he didn’t stop. He kept pulling at it like that would make it loose. The longer that it held, the more panic Jon began to feel. “Damnit!” Damian hissed when he gave up, a little breathless from his effort. He kept muttering the curse under his breath as he went back to pacing. “The only reason you defeated him in the first place is because they brought me here! We have to leave… I just need to think. To… Jon…?” He said more softly than the first time when he saw him sitting on the floor against the bed, holding his head in his hands. 

“I can’t kill people Damian.” he said when he felt his shoulder brush against his. “I can’t. I tried. When I was coming to save you, I knew that I should but I just…” He pulled his face up and looked at him, letting his fear show. “I am not my father. I am not some great swordsman. If I fight in this tournament I will die.”

“No you will not.” Damian told him. 

“No, Damian I-”

His lips crushed into Jon’s in a fierce kiss and did not let go until he felt Jon’s shoulder ease. “No. You will not.” he said more slowly. He didn’t let go of Jon’s face, looking into him fiercely with the eyes that had gotten him through every catastrophe they had faced so far. “If you fight, you will win. Because you are stronger than them. You have more to live for.” 

“But…” 

“No.” Damian shook his head. “Promise me that you will win. No matter what happens.” 

“Damian-”

“Promise me.” he repeated, but it wasn’t like the promise that they made in Themistera. Because this time, Damian couldn’t stand with him. This was Jon all on his own. Damian’s eyes had glossed over turning them into jewels in front of him and Jon reached up to grab his hand. 

“I promise.” he whispered and Damian let out a shaky sigh. “I promise.” he said again and hugged Damian closer to him as he wept silently into his shoulder. 

-

He lay awake that night looking up at the sand stone ceiling as he listened to Damian breathing heavily with sleep into his neck. His face was still hot from his tears and Jon wanted more than anything to go back to before they started. He hated when Damian cried. It was so rare and it always surprised him, and when he finally opened up, he couldn’t close. 

He looked up when the door opened and was surprised when he saw Jason standing there, looking at him in the distant light of a glowing torch down the hall. He cocked his head and walked out, leaving the door open behind him and Jon carefully untangled himself from Damian. He pulled on his pants and grabbed the loose shirt that had been left at the end of the bed and followed him out the door. The sandstone was cool on his bare feet, but Jason didn’t stop to let him think about it. He hurried after him down the hall, passed the throne room and out into the city. Jason ducked into the shadows and it took Jon a minute to find him until they were both walking unnoticed back through the Bizarre and to the opening of a small tunnel. 

Jon hesitated and looked over his shoulder. The cuff wasn’t coming off and he had no weapons with him. But he knew that the time to turn back was behind him. He stepped into the tunnel and they walked in the dark for what felt like a long time until they finally let out into the inky, star ridden sky. They were on an overlook standing tall over the desert. He stepped up to the edge and looked down, knowing that if he went any further he would die. He looked back at Jason who was leaning against a rock that jutted out of the plateau, watching him with a careful expression. 

“It really is beautiful up here.” he offered, turning his back to him, pulse spiking knowing that all Jason had to do was push him. 

“Yes, it is.” he replied, sounding proud. Jon listed to his footsteps as he came forward and held his breath until he was standing next to him. “Most people never think of the desert as a beautiful place. But there are so many stars.” 

“Is that why you never returned?” Jon asked. Jason looked at him in question. “To Gotham.” 

“No.” Jason shook his head and Jon gave up on watching the stars. “You know of the stories about the league. How they steal children in the night? All of that is true. I was kept here as a child. No parents to miss me. Guarding the other children in the tunnels because I was bigger than them. Stronger. I met Tim there.” Jon blinked at him and Jason sighed and continued. “I was taken in by the Demon Head because he saw something in me. He trained me, made me his son, gave me a purpose. And I was loyal to him only because I had nothing else. Only my title. Nothing else until Tim.” Jason turned to him then, crossing his arms as he sized Jon up, Jon finding it very difficult not to fidget under his gaze. “I know what it is to love someone so strongly you would die for them.” Jon didn’t know what to say, but Jason didn’t need him to speak. “Tim’s anger is because he cannot stand to see me loose. But I want you to know, I respect your victory. And I look forward to fighting you again.” 

Jon took the hand that was offered to him, grasping at each other's forearms like they were on equal footing-- and for the first time Jon actually felt that they might be. Jason was a kid from Gotham just like him. He had come from nothing and rose to power. Had Jon not had more opportunities given to him? Had Jason not earned his place as the champion of the League? 

He frowned at Jason, holding tight onto his forearm until Jason was looking warily at him. “You said the stories are true.” Jon said meeting his eyes. “ _ All  _ of them?”

-

It had been light out for a long time before they made it back into the cave and Jon felt better than he had in days with the sunlight on his skin even if his magic was sealed at his wrist. He and Jason parted at the throne room and he promised to bring Tim back with him before Jon started down the hall. He could hear Damian shouting before he got to the door, the giant guarding it watching it warily like he was afraid. Jon touched his arm and attempted to sooth him without knowing if he actually could and unlocked the door, pulling it open so that Damian fell into his arms. “Jon?” he breathed grabbing at his face. He stepped back just far enough to look at him before hugging him hard. He hit him when he pulled back, open palm to his chest. “Where were you?” he demanded furiously. “I woke up and you were just gone. I thought you died! I thought-”

“I know.” Jon told him catching his arm and pulling Damian back to him. “I know, and I am sorry.” he kissed him and felt some of the anger melt off of him. 

“Where were you?” he asked again a little easier. 

“Making a plan.” Jon told him and smiled when he looked surprised. He let go of all of him but his hand and pulled him towards the throne room. 

\---

"No."

"Damian," Jon sighed.

"No." He shook his head. He could see the pair at the throne watching him. Their blue eyes following him as he walked away from Jon wishing that he could walk away from this entire situation. 

"I don't see where the issue is," Tim said. 

"Of course you do not. You lose nothing," he snapped. Jason moved and Damian's eyes flicked to him before he looked back at Jon. "Please tell me you did not agree to this." 

"It returns everything to the way it was," Jon said. 

Damian walked up to him and touched his jaw with his fingers, then cupped his cheek. "You cannot be this foolish. You will die." 

"Only for a moment," Jon said. 

"An hour at most," Tim chimed in. Damian closed his eyes. 

"We do this and we'll have their loyalty," Jon whispered. He felt his fingers slide into the back of his hair. 

"It will mean nothing, if you are dead," Damian replied. "Your father made me swear to take care of you. I-" he took a step back. "I forbid it." He felt like a child, but he was desperate and angry. If Jon agreed to this, he would be agreeing to his death. He would die and Jason would win back his blades. Damian did not care that the pair claimed they could bring the dead back to life. Because at the moment of Jon's death there would be no going back, they would lose all control. If in that moment they decided not to bring him back all would be lost. They would have their blades. And Jon would be dead. But Jon did not see this. He trusted the warrior who after explaining the plan to Tim and Damian had been silent.

"You cannot. It is my life," Jon said. 

"I do not know why you brought me here. You've made your decision." 

"Damian," Jon said, pleading with him. 

Damian stepped away closer to the door. He wanted to leave, he wanted to breathe and think. He knew there was another way. He just needed to find it. His King was in check, but he would not lose him. Jon stepped closer and Damian turned away. He stood in front of him and pulled his face back to look at him. He looked up at the blue eyes he loved and wondered if he'd know which time would be the last.

"I am sorry."

"No you are not," Damian replied. "Or you would not have agreed to this."

"It is the best option." 

"Escape is our best option," Damian replied. 

"We cannot," Jon said and held up his hand. Damian stared at the band. He covered it with his hand. 

"We can find someone to remove it. Jon, please. I cannot feel you die." 

Jon's forehead touched his. Damian felt the tears well in his eyes. His grip tightened on Jon's wrist. He could feel how scared he was beneath the determination. 

"You will feel me die. But then I will live and you can feel me fall in love with you all over again." 

"If you come back at all." 

"Jason assures me that it will work." 

"You believe the word of an assassin? A man who has tried to kill you?" 

"Yes," Jon replied. It was fact. 

Damian turned away. Jon reached for him, but he pulled his arm away. "I told you. We should have avoided the desert."

"If the desert wants you, it will have you," Tim said. Damian looked over to him. His home had been taken from him, his father broken, his lover now standing at the edge of a cliff-- and he had never hated anyone as much as he did Tim in that moment. Jason stepped in front of him. Damian's eyes narrowed on him. 

"It is okay, my love. He is a smart one. He knows when he's been beat," Tim put a hand on Jason's shoulder. "Come. I want to know what your plan to deal with the witch is." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late chapter posting cause I'm an old lady who works at 6 in the morning and DNA just got home from work.like two hours ago. 
> 
> Anyway, this is the start of one of our favorite parts of the story. We've always had a soft spot of Jay Tim-- even though I cackled through editing this chapter and how lame and /not/ vicious sounding the name Tim is. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the chapter and stay safe! 
> 
> -Prubbs


	16. Chapter 16

Damian watched the pair standing across from each other in the large room. Jon and Jason were both breathing heavy. He felt Tim watching him and looked over. Tim did not look away. He could see him trying to figure something out, but he did not know what it could possibly be. 

"You would rather it be you," Tim said quietly. 

"Wouldn't you?" he replied without looking away from Jon who had attacked. 

"In a heartbeat. But I am the Head. I am too important to risk." Tim was looking at Jason when he glanced over to him. He did not look like he liked what he was saying. "As you will be King."

"He is my King," Damian said. "He fears it." 

"Do you not?" 

"Do I fear being King?" he asked. Tim continued to look at him, and offered the barest nod.

"I fear what will happen to my people if I fail. I fear the journey we have to make. I fear losing  _ him _ most of all. But I do not fear being King. To be King alongside Jon is all I have ever wanted."

Tim hummed and drew his attention back to the maps. 

"Jon," he called as his shoulder started to ache horribly. His hand shook as he set the marker down. Jon's eyes flicked to him and then with a tap to Jason's hand he was released. Jon's head ducked in apology. He frowned and moved the marker to the furthest guard station. Tim hummed, but his eyes were not on the map. Once again he'd drawn the man's attention. It did not seem very hard to do. 

"You feel him?" 

"Occasionally," he replied. He only felt aches and pains now without the flow of magic between them. He felt like he would burst at times. Like Jon's magic kept pouring into him and would until he could hold no more. 

"I have never heard of this before." 

"We are bound." He looked at Jon who was grinning as Jason pushed himself to his feet and dusted his pants off. 

-

"I do not understand," Damian said. He looked at the bundle sitting before him. Tim shrugged. 

"It is tradition." Tim touched the gem on his neck and a small smile crossed his face. 

"Very well," he said and took the cloth from the bundle. He looked at Tim and then the door. 

"Heh. Modesty is something I have not witnessed in a long time," Tim turned, but did not leave. Damian sighed and picked up the thin hunter green fabric. The fabric was softer than he had expected. It moved along his skin like a caress. He tied the laces of the pants and brushed his thumb over the snake head at the closure. He drew out the next swath and looked at it, then turned it and frowned. 

"How does this work?" Damian asked. Tim turned and grinned. He picked up a thick gold and black band and hooked the fabric through two hooks that Damian never would have seen and motioned for him to move closer. Damian ducked his head and Tim closed the band around his neck. He pulled the fabric taut and tucked it into the front of Damian's pants. Tim laughed at the yelp Damian let out. 

"Your hand," Tim said and Damian held it out. He watched as a gold snake wound its way up his arm it sat between his shoulder and elbow. Tim slid on another band, one that looked like it could be the brother of the one on Jon's wrist. Tim stepped back and tilted his head then looked up at Damian's eyes. "You look better in green than I ever have," Tim commented. Damian looked down, the shirt, if he could even call it that was only a single length of fabric that barely covered his chest, and even though it covered it, it was so sheer that he did not feel covered at all. He touched the embroidery again. "It is my favorite part too," Tim said. He ran his thumb over the vine of thorn that wrapped around his own waist. 

"Let us go. Our loves wait for us." 

Damian followed Tim through the halls and up narrow stairs and out onto a dias that overlooked the large room that Jason and Jon had had their first battle in. His eyes found Jon's and he saw him take in the fabric that brushed along his skin. He saw the heat in his eyes and let it settle the discomfort. Tim stepped up and spoke. He announced the chosen champions and then the two men on opposite ends of the room. Jason was on his knee, symbolically carrying the weight of his loss into battle. Jon stood at the other end. His deep blue clothes making him look once more like the warrior king Damian knew he would be. 

"Let the battles begin," Tim said and sat down. Damian sat next to him. He mimicked the relaxed way that Tim held himself and found that as he sat his body did relax into the comfortable pose. 

The first men dropped into the one large pit in the room and Tim dropped his hand when they nodded that they were ready. 

\---

He felt naked in the hooded tunic that he pulled over his head, Jason helping him with the straps under his shoulder as Jon watched the rest of them men around them exchanging gruff looks. "No one is speaking." He muttered uneasily as he strapped his sword back onto his belt and Jason handed him his long dagger, the jeweled dagger had yet to be returned. Jason had duel blades strapped onto his back, both of them having a vicious curve to them. 

He smirked at Jon and added the final piece to his outfit. A golden ornament at his waist with sunflowers burst up the side with a tangle of snakes. "Would you want to speak to a man you are about to kill?" He asked like it was a funny thought and pulled the wind guard over his mouth. "Save your words for your lover."

Jon scrambled to do the same as the gates opened and the champions stepped out into the sand swept arena. He took his place at the end of the line opposite of Jason looking up at the dias that he knew he would find Damian in. He had changed into a pair of sleeves like Tim usually wore, deep seated green with golden cuffs that he couldn't make out the detail on. He looked beautiful. He always looked beautiful, but standing above him, Jon could see the shadow of the price he had been born to be. It was chilling and arousing. And mixed with his fear and anticipation of the battle to come it created a strange storm in his stomach. He tried to pay attention as Tim called out the names of the champions, but he couldn't recall a single one by the time that they reached him, the crowd booing and cursing his name for what he had done to their champion. 

"Let the battles begin!" He heard Tim call and watched the others leave the arena before he stepped forward to meet his opponent. 

He was huge. Bigger than a tunic would allow. He was bare chested with two long swords already gripped in either hand. Jon was glad for the wind breaker over his face, that way the man could not see his swallow as he drew his claymore and tucked his long dagger against his arm, holding it across his chest as he took his stance. Tim's hand dropped and the crowd erupted in cries that he couldn't quite make out with his pulse thumping in his ears. The man smiled at him, half of his teeth missing so Jon could see a peak of his tongue through them and he moved forward. 

Jon stepped out of the first attack, dodging to the side as one of the giant swords came down at him from above and he just barely missed the sweep of the second one that came after, coming dangerously close to his head. He forced himself to stay calm as he continued in his circle, not wanting to make a stupid move until he understood more about his opponent. 

He was glad that the bond was muted when the man attacked him again. Jon wasn't sure he would have been able to balance his emotions with Damian's anxiety going through him as well. The man sliced at him with both blades swinging out and Jon rolled under them, bringing his claymore down on the man's arm and severing it from the rest of his body before he dodged quickly back. The man screamed, falling to his knees as he pulled his new stump into his chest, the crowd cheering behind him. Blood rushed from the wound and into the sand. Turning it to mud at the man's feet. There was a fire in his eyes, an angry blaze when he used his sword to climb to his feet and when he rushed towards him, Jon knew he had to end this now. 

The man shouted as he brought the sword down again. Jon just barely managed to get his sword up to counter it and stumbled a step back. The man hit it again and again, impossibly fast and hard until jon's blade snapped in his hand and he had only the hilt to block the last blow. 

He dropped the ruined blade as the man caught his breath, reaching down to the empty sheath at his side. He cursed and held tighter to his long dagger. He knew that if it took a hit from that sword it would immediately break and all would be for not. If he was going to win, he had to get close. He barely managed to roll out of the way when the man swept at him. And shouted when his foot shot out and caught Jon, knocking him to the ground. The air knocked out of him and his ears were ringing and all Jon knew was that he needed to get off of his stomach or he was going to die. 

He rolled, eyes widening at the blade approaching his face and he rolled again, the man looking over him. He kicked up with both of his feet into the man's chest knocking him off balance just enough for Jon to scramble back up and chance a look at Damian who had abandoned the casual stance he had to cheech the side of the box as he watched Jon fight. He felt a surge of confidence come from him and Jon used it. The man charged at him again and Jon ran forward to meet him. He ducked his sword and rolled forward through his legs like he had with the knight in Tameran. With him still moving forward, Jon had the perfect opportunity to take his dagger and slide it down through the left side of his neck where Jason had assured him was the fastest way to the heart. 

Jon let his eyes shut as the man twitched in his arms, blood spitting out of him in bubbling streams as he kept making horrific gargled noises and grabbed at Jon's arm with the one hand he still had.  _ Just die _ . Jon begged him silently as his grip got weaker and weaker.  _ Please just die. _ But he didn't. He held on for a full minute until his body finally went limp and Jon drew his dagger free from his neck and let him collapse before him. 

The crowd erupted into a roar of of cheers, their bloodlust erasing the wrong that Jon had done by dethroning their champion. It was hard to focus on it with the dead man in front of him and the layers of blood and grime that soaked his skin and clothes. He heard a clap and forced his eyes away from the corpse and back up to Tim who was smirking down at him, Damian still looking stiff but more composed as Jon turned to them like he had been told to do, arms behind his back. "The victor." Tim announced, "Jonathan Kent of Gotham." The boos were down out by cheers this time. 

He walked stiffly back to the opening gate and Jason nodded at him on the way passed him before he turned back to the fight at hand. Jon knew he should be watching. Knew that he would have to fight one of these men, but he could only smell the copper of blood on his skin and it turned his stomach to know what he'd just done. 

The rest of the matches were a blur. He watched what he could but mostly just logged the men that came back until Jason stood victorious in the ring. As soon as they were dismissed he pushed back to the entrance of the pits. 

Damian was waiting for him. Jon folded into his arms as soon as he reached him, neither of them caring about the looks they received as the others passed or that he would ruin Damian's fine clothing with carnage. "You did so well." Damian said into his ear as he held into the back of his head, Jon's face tucked into his shoulder. "Diana would have been frightened facing you in that battle." 

Jon didn't speak, he just focused on trying to breathe again until they were tapped on the shoulder and turned to see Biz standing next to them. "Must go clean." He told them kindly. "Feast soon." He urged them back towards the grand hall so they could bathe and change. 

They walked in silence back to their room, passed the hall and the preparations for the feast that was promised. He helped Damian out of the tangle of his clothes and cuffs before they pulled him out of his, the sickening noise of them hitting the floor all wet and heavy making his stomach turn. But Damian didn't let him dwell on it. He pulled him into the water. It went red in an instant, but Damian pulled at his chin, causing Jon to chase him into the corner of the bath where he held him flat against his body and his lips sucked the tension right out of him, leaving only the guttural and savage high of his win. "I thought you were upset with me." Jon said into his mouth. 

"I am." Damian breathed. "But if I am to lose you, let me have my fill." He barely got out before Jon lifted him off the ground and set him on the edge of the basin. Damian pulled away from his mouth, pulling Jon's chin up so that he was looking at him through his eyelashes. "Are you alright?" 

"No." Jon told him, grabbing his arm and dragging him back down to him. He wasn't okay, but he didn't want to think about it. 

Damian pulled away from him but Jon just moved his lips to his chest, his stomach, his hips, anywhere that he could reach. "Jon." Damian gasped, not ready to give up on the conversation. He pulled at his hair to stop him but Jon could see him frowning aroused from his touch. The smell of blood was still everywhere. Jon's hands were stained from the weeping of the killing blow he had served upon his opponent looking stark and brutal against the tan of Damian's thighs. He let Damian pull his head up but ran his tongue up his erection as he went. Damian groaned and stopped pulling, allowing Jon to sink back onto him, relishing the burn as it hit the back of his throat. Damian bucked and Jon gagged but didn't let up his pace, gripping at his hips and dragging him forward to the very edge. 

Spit ran down his chin and into the water. Bubbling as he pulled on and off of Damian, willing his mind to shut off and let him have this. But all he could hear was the gurgling noises of the man dying. The wet thunk of his clothes on the floor. The red still streaming down his own chest from where it had splashed up onto his face. The sound he made when he-

" _ Ohm _ !" Damian tried to stifle the noise but Jon pulled off of him and pulled his hand away from his mouth. Damian traced Jon's swollen lips with his fingers, words caught at the crease between his eyes. He didn't say them. He slid back into the bath, his body running down Jon's as their lips caught again and Damian's tongue told Jon that he was not in charge. He pulled Jon's hand around to his ass and sighed when Jon pushed a finger into him. Like this was what was missing. His presence in him. 

The bond barely pulled. Whether it be from his exhaustion or bound magic Jon didn't know. But it made everything feel more primal. Carnal. Like he was a beast and Damian was his prey. And when he added a third finger to him and Damian clawed at his back, it was like the switch that he needed finally flipped and his mind was blank. He turned Damian towards the tubs ledge, dipping under the water so that he could spread him open and tease at him with his tongue. He lifted Damian as he came back up, sliding him easily onto the ledge on his stomach so that his tongue could fuck in and out of him, pulling the most tantalizing sounds he'd ever heard from his King until he begged for Jon to give him more. 

Jon took the small step up so that he was positioned at the perfect height to claim him. Sinking into him too slowly before he pulled entirely out. Damian moaned and reached back to pull him back in and Jon grabbed his wrist, pinning it to the ground. He rocked back into him and back out and back in until the bond finally started lighting in his chest. And he wasn't just some beast. He was Jon. And this was the man that he loved calling his name out to him. 

Jon slipped back out and let go of Damian's wrists, stepping back into the water guiding him generally after. He kissed Damian hard and slow, really wanting to savor it as he picked him up by the ass and slid him back into his erection. Damian bit his shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around Jon as he lifted his hips on and back off of him. "I love you." He whispered hoping that he didn't sound as scared as he felt. But if he did, it was lost in them falling apart in the glow of their eyes. 

-

The feast was louder than any celebration that Jon had ever attended. He sat at Damian's side where he was sat next to Tim watching the men and women make fools of themselves with drink heavy in their stomachs. They got in many fights throughout the evening. But they were all settled quickly and once the eating was done, the dancing began. 

Jon watched Damian watching their movements with his eyes slightly glazed by the drink. Jon sipped at his own flaggen, his stomach still unsettled by the fight and the foreign food, he hadn't even thought about the empty seat as his side until he heard it pull out. 

"You are not fond of the drink?" He blinked when the man from the desert, Tiger, looked at him with his golden eyes. Jon blinked. He looked different out of the all black that Jon had found him in, golden sashes draped over the white tunic with silver laces tied down the sleeves. 

Jon looked at the glass in his hand but he didn't have an answer for him. "I didn't know you spoke the common tongue." He offered. 

"I did not want you to." He said simply and took a hold of his own drink. "I did not know you were such a swordsman." He offered back and Jon went quiet again looking back out at the people dancing below. Tiger continued. "I never thanked you for sparing my life." He said quieter still, just loud enough that his words could not be overheard. "We are raised to see strength in brute force and skill. Often we overlook restraint." Jon frowned down at his cup. "The man you killed today was not a good man. Just large bulk from one of the outer tribes. There is no one to miss him." Jon looked back at him and Tiger was watching his face with curious eyes. "You regret it." He didn't ask. 

"No." Jon told him, shaking his head. "But I do not wish to celebrate it." 

Tiger chuckled at that and sat back in his chair. "You will." He told him like Jon was being childish. "Until then, you must drink." He told him before he stood from his chair and headed back into the throng of people below. 

Damian watched as the dance continued. Color flowed through the air as silks and painted hands moved. He watched a man move in sync with the woman next to him. The man smirked when their eyes met and Damian took more of his drink. Jon was leaning over to talk to the man next to him who he had seen come and go during his conversations with Tim. 

"Kent." Damian looked up as Jon turned. It was the man from the dance. His eyes roamed over Damian and he smirked once more before focusing on Jon. "I wish to dance with your pet." 

"Pet?" Jon asked and when the man looked back at Damian, his gaze narrowed. Damian looked over to Tim who looked like he was trying not to laugh. Damian looked out on the floor and realized that the only people dressed like him were sitting in laps or dancing around their warriors. 

"Farrimin means no offense, Jon," Tim told him, leaning forward when Jon's eyes sparked in Damian's defense. "Farri," the man turned to Tim. Damian liked the sound of the words Tim said. If anything had him wanting to linger here it was the language. Or languages, there were so many filtering through the air. Farri laughed and with a low apology bowed to Jon, then with a smirk bowed to Damian as well.

"What did you tell him?" Damian whispered when Jon had been pulled back into his conversation with Tiger. He could still see the man's eyes watching him through the crowd.

"I asked him if he thought the marks on your neck looked like Jon wanted to share."

Damian's hand reached up and touched the bruises. He had thought the fabric hid it. "This attire is not traditional is it?" he asked. Tim smiled and leaned back in his chair. Jason's thumb rubbed over his neck and Tim looked at him. 

"It is somewhat traditional. But not in the way you are thinking. Pets are gifted with clothing. The nicer the cloth the more they are cherished. Jon had commented on the embroidery of your outfit from the tournament when he was walking with Jason." 

"If you are the Demon's Head then why do you-" Damian cut off his question when Jason turned sharply to them.

"Why do I dress like a pet? Because I was one." Jason's eyes flashed. Damian watched his face morph in old anger before returning to the blank expression he wore most of the time. "I killed my master to become the Demon's Head. I wear this so all of the other's in the league do not forget the life I endured at their hand. And because I like the way Jason looks at me when I first put on the new clothes he's brought me." Tim drew Jason in with a smile. Damian felt like he wasn't meant to see the soft expression before their kiss. He turned away and took Jon's hand. Damian squeezed his hand when Jon glanced over. Jon went back to Tiger and the second man that had joined the conversation. Damian drained the rest of his drink. Shimmering gold drew his attention again and he watched the dancers once more. 

"Ask your King to dance," Tim whispered to him. "Show them who you belong to." 

He drank half of the cup that had appeared before him and then stood. 

"Dance with me, my King." 

Jon looked up and Damian drew him up along with him and out into the writhing crowd. It was not hard to move with the music. The sleeves caught Jon's attention as he moved and Damian slid against him. He had watched the teasing game the pets played with their masters and pulled away before Jon could capture his lips. He laughed when Jon pulled him back in before he slipped out of his grip and around his back.

"I do not mind these parties," he said. He moved away When Jon turned, but was tugged back in. "Much better than court." 

Jon growled when Damian teased him again, the wet heat of his breath barely licking across his lips before he slid away. 

A roar went up and they turned to watch Jason walking away from the table, Tim's legs wrapped around his waist. Tim waved his hand to dismiss the cheers, but did not pull away from his lover. 

"I think we can retire," Jon said lowly against his neck. Damian turned and caught his lips. "Try not to ruin this outfit too. Tim took the rest of my clothes." Jon laughed and pulled him down the hall. The giant followed after them. 

-

Tim yawned and sat down at the table. He was wearing a dark red shirt with two narrow straps on his shoulders. They did nothing to hide the marks on his skin. Damian had found another outfit, the same dark blue that Jon had worn the night before. This covered more of him which he was grateful for. 

"You slept well?" Tim asked his eyes bright with the knowledge that they had not slept much at all. 

"Does each round end like this?" Damian asked. 

"If your warrior survives, yes." Tim touched a spot on the map of Gotham. "What is here?" They drifted in and out of conversation and strategy. 

When Jon and Jason came back from wherever they had gone they were sweaty and spent more time bothering them than they did sparring. He sat with his head in Jon's lap as Tim told a story. Jason interjected every once in a while to clarify whose fault it was that they'd found themselves in that situation. 

Jon chuckled and smiled down at him. He took another fruit from the bowl. 

"There is a temple," Damian said when Tim's story ended. "My mother wrote about it. I wish to go there before we leave." He did not let himself think on the upcoming round or the one after that. He focused on the warmth of Jon's thigh beneath his neck and the feel of his fingers in his hair. "She said it had thick stone with vines covering the walls." 

"A temple?" 

"What did she say it was for?" Jason asked. 

"Peace and rebirth." 

"You will see the temple," Jason said. "The sacred waters within its walls will bring Jon back to life." 

Damian looked over to Jason. He closed his eyes. "Oh. Well at least I can mark that off my list then," he said. Jon's hand found his and he kissed it before Jon asked Jason about a scar he had.

\---

He tried not to think about the challenge to come, but that was difficult when all he did was prepare for it. Jason collected him at first light every morning and would drill Jon until there was nothing left of him to work out. He could feel his muscles swelling where they never had before, his shoulders turning broad and chest wide. And every day it seemed he had to look a little further down his nose at Damian. 

"I don't like it." Damian muttered unhappily, his hand unable to wrap completely around Jon's bicep as they walked through the market a few steps behind Tim and Jason. Just enough space to give them privacy in the midst of all of the noise. He claimed not to like many things about Jon's ever shifting appearance, but he knew that it was really the height that bothered him. "Soon you will be more a giant than Biz." He grumbled, sparing a glance over at the man who was following them, his eyes ever present on Jon. 

It had been strange at first, the fascination the man had with him. Jon had tried to engage him in conversation a handful of times, but neither the common tongue or the language of the desert were his first, and he had a difficult time keeping up with him. Jon could tell that he was intelligent. His expression gave away his emotions before he could hide them. He had asked Jason about him once after one of their long mornings. But all he had been able to tell Jon was that Biz has been given to him as a gift from hos father years ago. He didn't like to speak of his past, but Jason had guessed that he had been a creature of Azerath. Either man or demon who lost his way and ended up in the dessert. But regardless of where he was from, Jason trusted him with his life. It still made him uneasy, like Biz was watching him, waiting for something to happen. Jon just didn't know what. 

"Would that be so bad?" Jon teased and flexed his arm to agitate him. "I'd be able to intimidate your enemies before they ever tried to strike you. 

"It would be a useful  _ distraction. _ " He mused smirking up at him and Jon leaned in to kiss him before it could fall off of his face. 

No one much minded the openness of their relationship here. In fact they revelled in it. More times than not, they had been approached by a bystander appreciating their affection asking if they could join in. It was strange. This openness of sexual orientation and community that was here. How easy it was for everyone to say what they wanted and to have that. He kept his hand more often than not on Damian, the lingering looks of passers by tending to the fire in his stomach more than he liked. 

"We are here." Tim said, pulling them out of their bubble with a smirk. He looked up at the sign, two sabers crossed over words he could not read. They followed Tim and Jason inside and looked around at the blades that lined the walls. A pretty woman sat at the desk just inside as a larger woman stoked the fire and hammered away behind her. 

She greeted them in the desert language with a slight bow to the Demon Head and his champion. Jon watched them as they spoke back and forward before Jason waved him over. He kept Damian's hand as he approached, watching warily as the woman came out from her perch and looked him over. She asked a question. Jason answered and pulled Jon's left arm out straight so that she could put a long thin piece of wood up to him like she was measuring and nodded. She led them over to the wall at the back, said a few words and left them there. 

"These are made for Men of your build." Jason offered when they were alone. "She says to take your pick for it is an honor to see her swords in the pits."

Jon looked them over carefully. It was mostly broadswords, long swords and claymore. It looked like the rack in the armory in Gotham. He pulled a few out and tried their balance, everyone giving him room as he tried an attack and frowned. "These are too heavy." He told Jason thinking about the blades they had been practicing with. "If my opponent moves faster than the last I am dead." He nodded and pulled Jon over to the next wall where they had an array of shorter curved blades that were much lighter to the touch. He pulled a couple and tested them. They felt much better but he did not know how he was supposed to choose one. His claymore had been given to him by his father before he knew the difference in weight. He'd had it for what felt like his entire life and he didn't know how he was supposed to go about picking a new one. It felt much too important. 

He was surprised when Tim approached him with a set of black blades. One and thin but long dagger like the one Ka'tham had given him. The other a sturdy scimitar like the one in his hand. Each blade was polished and glistening like they were asking to be coated in grime and blood, a wicked and cracked amber stone at the base of each hilt. "To match your pendant." He told him handing them over before he reached down to his belt. "And this." 

Jon was surprised when Tim handed him his marital knife, his face stating clearly that he would not hear a single word about its return. He nodded and tucked the knife back into the empty sheath at his leg and tried the weapons he had been given. When it felt just as good as any other he accepted the blade and bowed deeply in his thanks to the shop owner who smiled so wickedly at him that Damian grabbed his arm and pulled him back out into the street. 

-

He could feel dread growing in his chest the closer they got to the new challenge. Damian and Tim started to go with them to the practice ring, making their plans on the sidelines as they watched Jon and Jason battle. He had grown used to his new sword and dagger and he liked the balance of them. The way they cut through the air like they were making room for him. Even Jason was starting to look more tired the longer they fought, exerting more of himself with every battle. 

Damian tended to him every evening and they spent their night wrapped in each other like they wouldn't get the chance again-- though neither of them ever spoke about that possibility. 

On the morning of the second match Jon felt a shaky calm. He knew for the most part what he was to expect and he did not reveal in the idea of what he knew he must do. He took a few bites of the food that was brought to them and changed into the tunic and pants that had been given to him the last time. He was glad that he was able to change here with Damian and glad for the wind breaker that blocked his face as he helped him clamp on his jewelry to the deep blue silks that matched his own. 

Damian held his face when he finished getting his clothes in place, making Jon look at him. "I wish I could do this for you." He told him in frustration. "I can see what it does to you. If I could-"

Jon placed his hand over his. "I know." He told him and leaned his forehead into Damians before Jason knocked on the door and told them it was time to go. 

Tim announced the fighters again. The crowd roared their approval. Damian did not look away from Jon. He held his new blades with a confidence Damian had not seen in him before. He thought back to the boy that climbed through his window every night and couldn't reconcile that boy with the man that lifted his sword as his name was called and the crowd erupted. Jon had, like he always did, won these men to his side through his actions alone. 

"It is difficult watching them fight, is it not?" Tim commented as Jason dropped into the ring with his opponent. He looked over to Damian and raised his hand. "But they do it for us." 

He dropped his hand and the battle started. Damian had not realized how quick Jason was in his first battle. But he could see it now. His opponent, could barely move to block his attacks. Even then, the man had skill and had clearly faced off against Jason before. He did not waste his movements. He kept his guard. But Damian knew from watching Jason spar with Jon that trying to outlast him was not a winning plan. Jason never appeared to tire. 

Tim stood when Jason and his opponent dropped below the edge of the ring closest to them. A roar broke out amongst the crowd, announcing a winner. Tim's fingers clenched on the edge of the railing. Damian didn't think he'd seen him look that worried before. Then Jason's face lifted over the edge. A streak of blood was smeared across it. He smiled as he pulled himself the rest of the way out of the pit "I hate him," Tim mumbled and sat back down. 

Damian looked down as Jon stepped forward. He looked up at them before dropping into the pit. The man he faced was a few inches shorter than Jon, but had a broad build. He wielded a large hammer. Damian's eyes followed the heavy head. He did not like the look of it. He glanced at Tim and knew that he didn't either. 

Tim's hand rose. Damian held his breath. It dropped and Jon moved. He got within reach of the hammer. But the man moved back. He clearly knew how to use the hammer. He moved back when Jon moved forward and as the fight progressed Jon had more and more trouble getting close enough to dodge the blows. He took a glancing strike to the shoulder, but spun and managed a slice across the man's chest. 

The man leaned back suddenly as Jon dove forward to stab him. The tip of Jon's sword barely missed the man's chest and cut into his shoulder. As Jon withdrew the man swung the hammer suddenly and Jon could do nothing as it slammed into his side. He felt the blow and stood up, walking the few steps to the edge of the dias. 

Jon hit the dirt. Damian was relieved to see that he had his swords in his hands still, but he looked like he was having trouble breathing. He needed to move. The man was stalking forward. His hammer swung back and it arched high over the man's head as he brought it down. 

"Jon," he cried out. His heart stopped at the sound of metal striking metal. Jon's swords were crossed above him, holding the hammer at bay. He could see him struggling. With a roar the man kicked out and Jon stumbled back. He rolled out of the way of the next arcing strike. Jon managed to break through the thick leathers and draw blood as he moved. Jon was faster, but was slowing. Damian could feel the pain growing. The blow to his side was as bad as it had looked, but Jon's face was as determined as it had been. Jon dove forward under a heavy swing and drove his sword into the man's side. The man let the hammer drop and slammed his fist into Jon's side. Jon cried out and his grip on his sword slipped. They struggled as Jon tried to regain his grip on the sword still stuck through the man's side. The man threw his hand out, striking Jon in the jaw and knocking him back. He drew the sword out of his side and tossed it away. Jon recovered and tackled the man before he could reach his sword. There was no art or finesse to the fight anymore. No quick strikes and beautifully arcing blows. There was only the desperation of two injured men locked in battle. Jon was thrown back once more. Damian felt surprise flicker through the bond then he felt the crack of a rib. But it was not from a blow upon his own body. Jon had swung the heavy hammer and caught the man in the side of the head. His rib had broken under the force of his own strike. He heard Jon yell before the hammer came down again. The man's arms twitched up to block the next, but they did nothing against the weight of his own weapon. The crowd had gone silent. Or maybe they hadn't, but all Damian could hear was Jon. His yell broke as the man's jaw snapped. It was wet as a splatter of blood swung up spraying across the crowd as Jon swung the hammer again. The body beneath him had stopped moving. Jon slumped to his knees. The hammer fell to the blood soaked dirt. Jon's hand went to his side and the broken rib beneath it. Then he raised his other arm. Damian saw it tremble. He wanted Jon to turn. He needed to see his face. The bond was chaos and pain and he needed to see that Jon was still there. The noise of the crowd came back as Jon stood and turned to face them. His face was red, the blue of his tunic was nearly black. Jon's eyes found his and Damian moved. 

He faintly heard Tim say, "And we have our final two champions," as he ran down the stairs. Jason stood next to Jon, his voice a low murmur. Jon's eyes moved from Jason to him as soon as he stepped out onto the dirt floor. He saw the tears swelling in Jon's eyes and the next thing he knew he had Jon in his arms.

"He said please," Jon rasped against his neck. Damian held him as tight as he dared. "but I couldn't stop." Jon's voice faded and he felt his weight growing. "I couldn't stop," he breathed again, then went limp. Damian held onto him and looked at Jason. 

"Let me," Biz uttered and took Jon's arm. Damian slowly let go of Jon as Biz picked him up. He held onto his hand and walked beside them. Jason walked before them, his eyes moving around as they walked. Jon came to and squeezed his hand. His eyes were distant, but Damian could feel nothing but relief at the tight grip that he had on his hand. 

They laid him next to the bath and Damian pulled his clothing free. Jon's eyes followed him as he moved, but Damian wasn't sure how much he was taking in. He touched the already nearly black bruise on Jon's side and Jon hissed. By the time he had gotten the clothes off of Jon and most of the blood washed from his skin Tim walked in with a woman behind him. She didn't smile or acknowledge any of them. She walked up to Jon, touched his neck, then his side. She looked at Damian and drew out a small bottle. She motioned for his hand. He held it out and she placed the bottle in it. She started speaking and Damian looked to Tim. 

"Let him sip from that. Only a sip," Tim added when the woman repeated a sentence. She took out a flat rock and placed it on Jon's side. She said something to Tim then stood. Damian touched the stone and was surprised that it was cold. "She said she would return in the morning with another stone." 

Damian leaned forward and touched Jon's cheek. "I need you to drink this." Jon blinked at him. He smiled and held the bottle to his lips. Jon swallowed and Damian pulled the bottle away. It did not take long before Jon's eyes were slowly closing. He found Damian's hand again and whispered his name as he fell asleep. 

\---

He jerked awake, the feeling of the hammer meeting resistance in his palms woke him more than the noise that he remembered. The crack and the plea and then the static of the cheers around him ringing in his ears. He gripped at his side as it screamed at him and Damain’s strong but gentle hands held his shoulder and back as he lowered him back down to the bed. He could hear Damian talking to him but everything was groggy and he felt like his entire body was swollen and that sound… it was still echoing in his head. 

The breath he sucked in was choppy and it hurt. His arm screamed at him when he reached up to cover his eyes, tears streaming down his face as he choked out a sob. He pulled his hand back just enough to see a woman there, her hands small and cold as she pressed some herbs and a cold rock into his side. Damian lifted his head and urged Jon to drink from a small vial before he pulled it away and let him lay back down. Jon just covered his eyes again, shame and hurt coursing through his chest as he swallowed on the prickling in his throat. He could feel Damian leaning over him, his breath on his ear as he spoke, but it was all just sound. He welcomed the warmth that washed over him and the sleep that it provided. 

_ He was back in Gotham, out on the flat patch of earth behind his family home. It had been worn down over the years, the only spot of earth that grass refused to grow on for the years of being trodden over. He felt small. His father standing in front of him looking just as tall as ever, always towing over Jon as he walked him through each step and each attack. But never going easy on him.  _

_ “Get up.” his father told him. Jon hadn’t even realised that he was on the ground. He didn’t say it harshly, but there was a coolness in his voice. He’d always distanced himself when it came to this. Jon’s mother told him that it was because he wanted him to know that there was a consequence when losing. Jon blinked up at him, feeling off balance. The sword that he had been given was too big for him-- but he knew that if he complained that it would not matter. “You have to get up, Jon.” His father said earnestly. “Whatever happens, no matter how many hits you take. You have to get up.”  _

_ Jon pushed himself up, his body as heavy and thick as stone. He let out a yell as he pushed himself up, eyes squeezing shut as he climbed painfully back to his feet, his side aching as he raised his weapon _

_ When he opened his eyes, he was no longer home. He was back in the pit and the crowd around them was raging. His sword was gone, a hammer in his place and his father was the one on the floor.  _

_ “Do it, Jon.” his father told him, his voice so soft that it was a whisper on the wind, an echo of a time before all of this. “You cannot afford to hesitate. Strike now.”  _

_ “Pa…”  _

_ “DO It!” _

_ He screamed as the hammer fell.  _

“It seems that the fever has broken at last. His sleep should be restful now.” It was Tim talking over a woman’s voice as she spoke in the pleasant curl of the desert language. “The wound should heal enough if he stays still for as long as we can spare it.” 

“How long until the next match?” It was Damian this time. He could feel the warmth of his hand in his palm as he squeezed it. 

“Two weeks.” Tim said and the room went quiet. 

Jon drifted in and out for what could have been hours but felt like days. Fortunately, he had no more dreams now that that heat had run out of him. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep when his eyes opened, but torches had been lit in the room and when he opened his eyes, the bed next to Jon was empty. He moved to get up, surprised when a hand reached out to hold him down and Jon turned his head to find Jason standing over him, a frown on his face. Jon barely remembered what happened after the match. He remembered climbing out of the pit and back through the cavern. He remembered retching up everything in his stomach and bial after. Jason had held his shoulders, tried to get him to… he didn’t know. But he remembered him being there. And he remembered-

“Where is Damian?” he asked, not looking around the room. He knew that if he had been in the room he would be next to him in a heartbeat. 

“He had not left your side for two days and three nights.” Jason said softly. “I told him I would sit with you. He is sitting court with Tim.” 

Jon chuckled and groaned when it set through an ache in his side. He moved more slowly to sit up, Jason helping him before sliding back into the chair that was next to the bed. “Damian hates court. I’m sure he put up a fight.” 

“He hates seeing you suffer more.” Jason offered. “He was not hard to convince.” They were silent for a little bit, Jon focusing on breathing, testing the ways that hurt him and the ways that he could handle and Jason offered him another cold stone for his side. “You have done very well.” Jason told him softly. “Very few men can claim to have made it so far in the contest for the Al Blades. You have managed to win two matches now. And the favor of many.” Jason smiled at him like he wasn’t bothered that some of his own men would will for him to lose.

“I don’t feel like I have won anything.” Jon told him. He looked down at the brace on his arm and frowned at it, a deep resentment settling in his stomach. “My father used to tell me that we were granted magic, not because we had the will to use it, but the will to choose when not to. That was what separated the Kent's from other mages. We set an example. We lead.” He swallowed and turned his eyes away towards the door. “But he spent years hiding the fact that he was a mage from the love of his life and then years after bringing down others and putting them in constant fear. And I am just starting to realise that the father I thought I had was something that I made up…” Jon swallowed again. “I didn’t know him at all.” 

He turned his gaze back to Jason, a tear rolled down his cheek and he let it fall. “I used to think that my family was chosen to do something great. That we could stand with kings because we were stronger than everyone else. We could protect people.” He wiped a hand across his face as more tears fell. “But here I am, on my own for the first time, the same age as my father was when he took on entire armies and became a hero-- and I have crumbled at the death of two men.” He looked back down at the brace. “I’m scared.” he admitted. “I do not want to do this anymore.” 

“Jon-”

Panic was rising in him again. “Take the brace and let me leave.”

“Jon.”

“I ceade the contest. I do not wish to fight you. I want to go ho-”

Jason took his hand and Jon stopped looking at them, “If you abandon this contest, the Al Caste will not let you live. Everything you have done up until this moment will have been meaningless." That sat heavily between them for a moment. "I don’t know any other mages.” Jason told him as Jon struggled with his breathing again. “And I have hated Gotham for what feels like a lifetime.” He blinked at that and Jason continued. “Tim is still fond of it. He thinks of the sunflowers and he smiles. He remembers the smell and it aches him. But I want it to burn. I have had dreams of it burning. And I had no intention of letting you live when this contest came to a close.” 

Jon’s eyes darted back up to Jason’s and for the first time, his face was soft. No longer the hard mask that he normally wore and it was disconcerting. “Wh-why are you telling me this.” 

“Because I am not a good man." Jason told him simply. "My lover and yours as well-- we see the world for what it is. A land to be ruled and conquered. We stake claim to it because this is what we have and what we control. Men are born to kill and die. That is the law of this land as it is many others. All of the rulers I have met crave blood and conflict more than peace. Except for you." And with that his eyes were as hard as his grip. "You are like no other King I have ever met."

"I am no King." Jon told him. 

"But you will be." Jason told him. "When I kill you, it will be quick and painless. And when you come back you will no longer fear death. The League will help you win back your lands. And when we do, there will be a King who seeks to help his enemies rather than destroy them." Jon wiped at the last of his tears and Jason stood, offering Jon his hand to help him up. "You are a good man, Jonathan Kent of Gotham." He helped Jon slowly to his feet and when they could look into each other's eyes at the same level, he said. "I will see to it that you become a great King." 

\---

Damian listened to the complaints and worries of Tim's people. He couldn't call them lords or ladies. But it ran much like their court did. When Jason had practically shoved him out of Jon's room he had expected something different. 

"No," Tim said before the man had even finished his request. Damian blinked and glanced over to Tim. The man looked angry, but not surprised. 

"You cannot-" 

"I cannot what?" Tim asked. Damian could feel the aura in the room shift. The man stood, he was Damian's height, his arms as thin as Tim was around. 

"You're lap dog isn't here," the man said. A clear threat in his voice. Tim looked bored. "You've denied my request three times now." 

"I'm not giving you money or people. I know what you've been doing. It is not going to continue. Be glad that my  _ lapdog _ is not here. Or you would be dead." 

Damian looked at the man and the people sitting around the room. No one seemed surprised by the threat. The man didn't look as if he had noticed how angry Tim was though. He stepped forward and looked at Damian then Tim and glanced over to a woman sitting a few seats down. The woman looked away quickly. 

"Your champion is weak. He lost to a boy. And now you've brought his pet into our council. Will you spread like the whore that you are for the new champion when your dog is put down?" 

Tim moved. Damian felt the spray of heat across his face and stared as the man grasped his neck and collapsed to the ground. Tim wiped the blood off his face and sat down. A guard stepped forward and dragged the man away. 

"Does anyone else have any questions?" Tim looked to the woman. She swallowed and shook her head. "Good. Bring in the next one." 

When they were alone Tim sat back and looked over to him. "I ruined your clothes. I am sorry." 

"Why did you kill him?" Damian asked. He had wanted to ask when the blood first struck his face. Then again as the body was dragged away. 

"He insulted Jason," Tim replied and frowned as he scratched at a patch of dried blood. "Come, pet." Tim grinned at him. "I need a bath." 

Jason stood when they walked in the door. "What happened?" 

"Valtra made another request. He did not agree with my decision." Jason touched Tim's cheek. He looked like he regretted not being there. Damian sat down, surprised to see Jon's smile. 

"Hey, you are awake." 

"You are bleeding?" Jon asked. His finger touched the flaking blood on his cheek. 

"No. No. It is not mine. I am fine. How are you?" 

"Hurt," Jon answered. 

Damian smiled and caught a kiss. Jon sighed. "It is better hurt than-" Damian frowned. He brushed his fingers through Jon's hair. Jon hummed. He felt him drifting back to sleep. 

"He took the mixture some time ago, but fought rest to see you," Jason said. 

Damian nodded and pat his hair. He was foolish. 

-

Jon went back to training before Damian thought he should. He still groaned when he moved and if he breathed too hard his chest would throb, but he insisted. Damian could do nothing but watch as Jon and Jason worked together. They talked more than fought in the first couple days. Their hands moving around and into each other. Jason touched Jon's jaw and Damian looked away as Jason pushed his head to the side. 

"He likes him," Tim said from his side. 

"Jon likes everyone," Damian replied. "I do not think he's disliked a single person. No. That is not correct. He hated my bride to be."

"I was talking about Jason. He is fond of your king." 

Damian looked at Jason. He shook his head at something Jon said. "And yet he sits beside him as they plan Jon's death." Damian stood. Jon looked up. "I am tired. Join me when you're finished here." 

"I'll go with you," Jon said and spoke to Jason before following after him. 

Damian curled around Jon as he slept. With each day he felt the weight crushing in on him more and more. He kissed Jon's shoulder. He could not imagine what Jon was feeling. 

By the eve of the battle Jon's breathing was normal. The bruise on his side had faded and he had sparred with Jason for the last two days. Damian wanted to drag him away, but Jon had told him what would happen if they did not finish it. They were having a feast. All of the dishes and treats that Jon had grown to love were spread out across the table. He knew it was meant to be their last meal. A celebration before Jon's death. He drank an entire cup of dark wine in a series of gulps before pouring himself another. 

The night drew late. Damian leaned against Jon's shoulder. "I wish you were not so far away." Jon wrapped his arm around him. It had been a month since he had last felt the full strength of their bond. 

"I ask for one thing," Jon said. Tim and Jason were watching them. "Remove this," he held up the band on his wrist. "On my word I will not run. I will not utter a word of magic until our agreement is complete." Jon's head bowed. "Please. If the waters do not work I would like to spend my last night within the warmth of our bond." 

Damian saw Jason touch Tim's wrist. He closed his eyes. He could not dare to hope. He had only one wish as well. He feared he had forgotten what Jon felt like. 

"I also wish to give you a gift to thank you for all you have given us. I will need my magic to do so." Damian looked up at Jon through the tears that had gathered. 

"We will find you if you run," Tim said. Jon's body sang with joy as Jason stepped forward with a key. Jon's magic flowed back into him and Damian sighed and slumped further into him. He breathed in the warmth of him. Wrapped it around himself and felt complete once more. "What is this gift?" 

Jon rose and went to his pack sitting in the corner of the room. He came back with a small pouch and a pot that Damian had seen him carrying in a few days before. He set it down in front of the pair. Jon reached into the pouch with two fingers and pulled out a black seed. He pushed it into the dirt. He looked up. "I may need to utter one word actually," Jon said and looked guilty. Tim rolled his eyes.

"Say your word. Finish this," Tim replied. 

Jon whispered a word Damian had heard before. He smiled as he felt the magic flare within Jon and flow into the ground. He had not ever felt it move so clearly. He did not know if it was the drink or the month of going without, but he followed the magic from the tips of Jon's fingers through the soil and into the seed. Life burst forth. 

Jon smiled as he sat back, another silent urging brought the life closer to the surface. Then a tiny green leaf sprouted forth. It grew and Tim leaned forward, curiosity clear on his face. Another leaf sprouted. Then another. Damian watched as the head grew. Then in a flourish the yellow petals reached out and turned to face Tim. Jon settled back as Tim stared at the flower. "It will stay alive. Touch it with your ring every few days." 

"His ring?" Jason asked. Tim had yet to look away. He leaned forward to breathe in the scent. 

"It is a sun stone. It holds magic within it." 

Jason looked at Tim. He had closed his eyes as he breathed with a small smile on his face. Jason touched Tim's hand, the shine of the ring on his finger caught Damian's eye before Tim's hand moved to hold onto Jason's. 

"Thank you," Jason said. 

Jon nodded. "I will see you in the pit." 

They walked back to their room and fell into bed wrapped up in each other. He kissed Jon like it would be their last. He cried out for him, begging to feel Jon. For Jon to leave a mark on him. He held onto him as they came together, their bond erupting in the space between them. Jon drifted, slow and soft kisses trailed down his cheek and neck until he was breathing softly against his chest. Damian watched Jon sleep. He didn't dare close his eyes. If he didn't sleep, then tomorrow wouldn't come and Jon wouldn't be taken from him. They could stay like this forever. 

\---

It was strange knowing that he was going to be dead in a matter of hours. 

On the other tournament days Jon had woken with a knot deep in his stomach tying him up until he was completely stiff. It had felt like the inner paralyzation would make his movements clumsy. Like he'd had to fight for every step, hoping that it was fluid enough to keep him alive until the next round. Long enough that their plan would work-- but now it was here. 

Jon woke up early enough that Damian was still asleep. He smiled a little thinking about all the ways that he had exhausted him the night before and kissed his temple before climbing out of bed. He checked his bruise, it was mostly green spotting on pale skin. It had been so long since he had been in the sun and longer still since he had felt it in his magic. He slipped out of the room and back towards the pathway that Jason had taken him on what felt like ages ago. It was easy to slip out unnoticed and find the tunnel in the midst of all of the preparations for the fight. 

It felt like stepping into a bath. The sun kissed his skin and wrapped around Jon as he sat on the edge of the cliff. He looked out over the sand until the heatwaves made pictures and he swore he could see it. Home. The castle. The sunflowers. Everything exactly like he remembered it, everything that he was dying for laid out in front of him except the most important that was back in his bed. He pushed himself up, wondering just how long this calm would last as he wound back through the tunnel and back to his room right as Damian was waking up. 

They didn’t speak much as they got ready, moving next to each other in a comfortable silence. Occasionally Jon would reach out and help Damian with a cuff and Damian would straighten his tunic. He pinned on Jon’s belt, the decorated buckle now matched on Damian’s own clothes. It felt wrong to leave his swords behind, but they sat on the bed and Jon handed his betrothal dagger to Damian. “Hold onto this for me?” he asked softly, offering him a smile. He saw Damian’s lip quiver before he got it back under control and nodded, kissing Jon hard before he turned to the door and they made their way out into the city. 

People called to them as they passed, most all of them cheering at him in their own language. A woman stopped him and asked without speaking if she could push back his hood. He looked at Damian and he nodded and Jon relayed it over to the woman. She pushed it down and looked at his face with full eyes before she pulled an oil from her pouch and rubbed it over his forehead with her thumb before she said a quick prayer and pressed a kiss into it. A few more did the same as they made their way over. It wasn’t magic. The desert people did not believe in magic, but Jon could feel it swelling in him. Like a protection spell that they did not know they were casting. 

When they reached the waypoint, Damian pulled his arm so that he had to look at him, taking his face in both of his hands. He looked like he wanted to say something, but it wouldn’t come out, so Jon pulled him in and kissed him one last time in this life. “Do not let this break you.” he told Damian against his lips. “I will come back.” he promised him. “And your embrace is the first thing I will crave.” 

“I love you.” Damian said hopelessly. Like it was painful for him. 

“I love you.” Jon said back before Damian pulled his hood back up with trembling fingers and let him go. 

He did not see Jason in the holding area. They were being kept apart, only to see eachother once the fight began. Jon closed his eyes and listened as the people began pouring in, voices and footsteps all around him and then… silence. He heard a voice speak and then a cheer as the gate opened to let him into the pit, guard telling him to step forward. He complied and let his feet hit the sand as the cheers resonated around him, a red tunic approaching from the opposite end. He had Jason stopped in front of each other, only a few feet apart before Jon followed his gaze back up to Tim, but his eyes stayed on Damian. He didn’t listen to the speech. It all felt like noise and he didn’t want to think about what an honor it would be to die for blades he didn’t care about. He wanted to think only of Damian. Of how beautiful he looked in his blue wrap, and golden trappings. He would die for Damian. And then he would come back for him. 

He only looked back to Jason when Tim’s hand fell. Jason did not move against him immediately. Instead when they locked eyes he pushed down his hood and windguard so that he was exposed to him. The arena went quiet and Jon took his cue to do the same. And when they were bared to each other, only then did Jason move.

They had practiced the routine a hundred times until Jon could have done it in his sleep. But that did not make the blows less painful. They battled and grappled Jason’s fist collided with the side of Jon’s head and he stumbled as the ringing brought him to his knees. He watched Jason’s feet as they walked around behind him, and he took Jon’s chin in his hands. “It will be quick.” he promised only for Jon to hear. He swallowed and looked up at the dias, both Tim and Damian holding the edge. Damian was crying, face twisted with Jon’s name on his lips. He tried to smile, to offer him one moment of comfort, but Jason moved his hands and Jon couldn’t see him anymore. He couldn’t see anything at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. Forgot to post the chapter! Sorry guys, November had really just been a no good awful month for us... please accept this Saturday morning chapter and drink all the coffee for me. 
> 
> -Prubbs


	17. Chapter 17

"Jon," Damian whispered. 

Tim stood next to him and he spoke, Damian watched his mouth move, but all was silent. A band was wrapped around his wrist. He knew that it should have been cold against his skin, but he didn't feel anything. 

Because there was nothing left to feel.

He was gone. 

Jason pushed himself out of the pit. He watched him take the swords. He watched them pull Jon from the pit and stepped forward when they took him away. He had to follow. He had to stay with him. Tim's fingers wrapped around his wrist above the metal band. His eyes went to his fingers. He closed his eyes before looking up at Tim, who was looking back at the pits, smiling because he had gotten everything he wanted. He had taken everything from Damian. He pulled his arm away and Tim looked over. He swung his arm, the metal band bit into his wrist as he slammed it into Tim's face. He went down and Damian followed. Tim struggled beneath him, but Damian was stronger, bigger. His neck was so small beneath his hands. He pressed and Tim's fingers clawed at his arm. He could see him struggling, could feel his body kicking out as he failed to get any air. 

He turned his head when he felt the cool metal of a blade against his throat. He followed it up to the blue eyes that looked down on him. There was fear in them. He turned back to Tim. Sound came rushing back. He could hear the clamor of the people below. The cries of the guards and the deep voice of Biz keeping them at bay. But over all of the noise, he could hear Tim choking as Damian's fingers tightened even further. 

"Let him go." 

He looked up at Jason. The man that could end this with a single move, but the blade moved away. He looked down at Tim whose struggles had slowed and back at Jason. 

"I will not send you to him. Let him go and I will help you save him." 

His fingers shook. He felt the first sob rip free from the echoing chamber of his chest. He let go of Tim and collapsed over him. Each sob tearing its way from his throat. He was empty, the warmth that he'd basked in his entire life without really noticing was gone. His throat gave out and the world was silent again. He held onto the thin fabric of Tim's clothing and trembled. 

-

He opened his eyes and he was leaning against the throne. His head rested on Tim's knee. He rolled his head and looked up over his shoulder, Jason's calm facade was the first thing he saw. Blue eyes flicked to him for a second before going back to the front. Tim's hand brushed through his hair. He rolled his head to look up at him. He had changed. His black clothes had been replaced with a green shirt that hung off his shoulders and bared his chest and neck. His neck was decorated with a ring of deep black bruises. He could see the shapes of his fingers like carefully molded metal against his pale skin. The red bruise on his cheek drew his attention as Tim spoke. 

"He was scared. But you see him now, he is mine." Tim's voice was rough. He could see the pain in his eyes as he swallowed. He looked forward and saw a pair of men standing before Tim. He had seen them before. Tim continued to brush his hair. He closed his eyes. 

"He should be punished."

"Oh?" Tim uttered, his hand stilled on Damian's head. "And how would you punish my pet?" 

"He should join his master. Or be given to the men. He should not have the honor of touching you."

"You would kill that which belongs to me?" 

One of the men stepped behind the other, realizing the mistake that had been made by answering. 

"He-" the man who'd spoken started. 

"He is mine. I will do with him as I see fit." Tim's fingers slid through his hair drawing his head back. He looked up at him. Tim smiled softly. "Perhaps you would like to discuss your ideas with Jason."

"No," the man rushed to say. Tim hummed. The man bowed and the pair retreated leaving the three of them alone in the room. 

"Damian?" Jason kneeled in front of him. He followed his movement with his eyes. Jason looked relieved and touched his shoulder. He looked at it. When he looked back up at Jason his hand slid away. "What if you were wrong?" 

"I wasn't. They are just children in love." 

"He is broken," Jason said. 

There were heavy knocks at the door. Jason stood. 

"After we fix the mess he made, we'll fix him too," Tim said. Damian closed his eyes as Tim's fingers slid through his hair again. 

-

He was floating. The sky was dark, the moon a mere sliver cutting through the clouds overhead. He turned, to look at where  _ he _ should be, where  _ he _ always was floating beside him, but the pond was empty. He shifted and looked back up at the castle, but it was in ruins. A bird landed on the edge of the pond. It blinked at him with blood red eyes. He stared at it and it stared back. 

"Your shield has failed," the bird cawed. "Failed," it repeated. It grew with each word. He swam away as it's voice crackled and filled the air around them. "You will be mine once more-" 

"Damian!" 

He opened his eyes. A light touch turned his head and he looked over to Tim. He was sitting on the bed next to him. "You're eyes," he murmured. Tim leaned forward and touched his temple. 

"Jon," Damian whispered. Tim's hand jerked away. He looked surprised. He leaned back in. His eyes flicked over Damian's. He blinked slowly. 

"Tim," Jason called. Tim turned. Damian's eyes fell in Jason who was standing in the doorway. He had blood splattered across his cheek. "It's done." 

Tim turned back to Damian. "It's time." Tim took his hand and he sat up and let him guide him down the hall. Jason followed behind them. Tim looked back at them when they reached a dark stair. He took a step and kept walking into the darkness. Biz was standing in the corner. He stepped forward, fists raised before he realized who it was. Jason walked past them. Tim stopped and turned back to face Damian. 

"It can only be you in here when he comes back. He will not know who he is. You must remind him. Do you understand?" 

He blinked at Tim. 

"I think we took too long."

"Then we should not wait. He will know him," Jason said and pulled Tim away. Damian looked around and saw Biz set a bundle of cloth into the water. He took a step forward watching as the water soaked and the bundle sank. Biz was silent as he passed him. Damian looked to the entrance. Jason stood there, his blades in his hands. He looked at Damian before taking a step back. Damian turned back to the water. The bundle was at the bottom of the water. 

The water was still, then a single bubble broke through the top. Then another. Damian watched as the bundle moved. A hand broke through the cloth. The water swirled as the bundle broke. He watched as a figure broke through the surface on the other side of the pool and climbed out of the water. He stood there where he'd been left and watched as unsteady footsteps grew more confident. As broad shoulders lifted and a strong jaw rose from the ground. 

"Jon?" he whispered as blue eyes found his. 

\---

Jon had always thought he knew what dying would be like. As a mage of old and new magic, his parents had raised him to believe that there were two different possibilities. His mother believed that when a mage died, their magic returned to the soil. Spreading into the soil before to be recycled by their people for generations to come. He could still hear her voice in his head like it was only yesterday that he was still small and she was helping him plant his first seeds.  _ All people eventually become the earth. That is why we must respect it. _

His father had been of a different mind. He believed, like his own parents before him, that if you worked hard to live your best life and help the people around you-- you would be welcomed in the presence of the old gods. He had painted all of these beautiful pictures with his words, scribbling in the dirt as Jon sat in his lap and he told him all about the Summerland. A place where it was always warm and the grass was green and energy swirled freely around them. It was neither a heaven or a hell. Just a place for departed souls to exist in utter content until they eventually faded into the energy around them.  _ There is no pain or fear. _ His father had told him.  _ Just acceptance and understanding.  _

Jon was unsure of which afterlife he should expect. His parents had never told him which one he would definitely see, just that both existed. That both happened. After the blow that killed him, Jon waited for something to happen, suspending in an orange hue. He didn't know how long he floated there, but eventually he felt the ground at his feet. He walked for what felt like hours until the orange gave way to something a little brighter. Like the light of the sun coming through the secret passage out of the Bazaar. He followed it. 

He hadn't expected to be back in Gotham. The sun shining through light clouds as he looked at the cottage his family had lived in all his life. The last time he'd seen it, it had been ransacked, but now it looked as though the siege had never happened, the sunflowers perfectly in bloom. His heart swelled with longing as he saw it, the castle in the background, the sounds of the town alive up the road. Jon took steps towards the noise wondering if all of this had been a dream, if maybe he'd find Damian there-- but he didn't get far. 

"You won't find anything that way." Jon's heart plummeted into his stomach and he squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to remind himself that he was dead and that none of this was probably real. But if he really was dead, why did it hurt so much to hear his father's voice? He took a few breaths and turned back toward his home. There was a small alcove under a spattering of trees where his father used to burn fallen branches. He was there now adding wood to the fire. He didn't look like he had the last time Jon had seen him. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was longer and he had a short beard. He looked up at Jon and offered him a half smile, motioning to the stool on the other side of the fire. "Sit with me for a little while," Clark told him, his voice warm. "It has been a long time, son."

Jon walked slowly over to the fire and sat across from him, watching as he poked a log into place with a small branch. "Is this the Summerland?" He asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

Clark shook his head. "This is somewhere… in between," he tried to explain as he pulled his brow in. "It's a place that I never knew existed until very recently. But we don't have a lot of time and I need to know Jon, how did you get here?"

Jon blinked and was surprised when it didn't come to him right away. Everything felt hazy. Like it was someone else's memory. "I… died?" He almost asked and looked at the fire. As he stared at it he felt his head clear slightly in the warmth. "I was-"

"Don't tell me," Clark told him quickly but his voice was soft. "I don't need to know where you are."

Jon looked up at him, the haziness slowly settling back over him. "Why don't you..."

His father's eyes locked with his and his words trailed off. "I've been waiting for you in this... in between. Every night. I've fluttered to this place until they tear me back. And I'm not sure how long it will be until they pull me back again." He stood up and walked around the fire so that he was kneeling next to Jon. He took his face in his hands and for just one second Clark's eyes poured over Jon's face. "You've grown so much," he muttered, tucking Jon's hair behind his ears. Clark cleared his throat and collected himself. "I need you to hear me Jon. It is going to be hard for you to retain this. But you have to. Do you understand?" 

Jon looked between his father's eyes. He was so confused. "You said that they are going to tear you back… back where? Who?" 

"It's not important."

Jon grabbed at his wrist. "Pa!" he snapped at him. "Please, just tell me." 

He looked so softly at him. "If I tell you, they might find you."

Jon's breath caught painfully in his throat and his eyes stung as his grip tightened on him. "You're alive?" He croaked. Clark thumbed a tear off his cheek. His smile was sad and it told him all that Jon needed to know. His father was alive. He had been alive this entire time. "The specter." Jon almost sobbed out. "It was really you."

"It was me, here," his father told him. "I could not see you. But when I'm here I can feel you. Where you are and when you need me. It's like a string," he explained. "The string of our magic that I could follow back to you. And sometimes-"

"Damian." 

His father nodded. "I was trying to pull you back here to this suspended place. But you woke up every time and the string snapped. There was nothing to pull." He ran a hand through Jon's hair again, not willing to let go of his face. "But now you are here and I need to tell you why I am here."

Jon nodded wiping at his face. He watched as his father walked back over to the stool across the fire and tried to keep the haze out of his mind. 

"I died," Clark told him softly once he was settled. "I died with Damian in the woods but I never made it to the Summerland. I was here and then a raven led me back out and I was in the castle. My wounds just disappeared. I don't know how long I was here, but when I woke up the castle had been overrun. They told me that your mother had gone. You and Damian vanished. And Bruce was…" he swallowed and Jon could see the mist in his eyes. 

"He's alive," Jon told him and watched as his father's eyes snapped up to him. "He was injured but I healed him. He's-"

"Don't tell me!" His father snapped, emotion keeping him from holding the calm that he'd been holding onto. "I don't want them to know." 

"Who?" Jon asked, his heart hammering. "Raven?" He demanded the name feeling like acid in his throat. His father didn't answer but his eyes shifted. Jon jumped to his feet. "I'll come to you. Right now. We'll storm the castle and save you! We've been to Diana and we know how to fight now. We can beat her Pa, we can-"

"Jon." He stopped, breathing heavily as he waited for what his father was going to tell him. "You have to go to the Valley of Mist. You must seek out the Lantern. You need them and there is something Damian needs to find there."

"But Pa-"

"I've survived this long," he told him and shook his head. "But I didn't come here to ask you to rescue me." Jon deflated and sat when his father motioned for him too. He was so confused. The suspended place was trying to pull him under again, but he focused on the fire and his father in front of him. "When I died," Clark started when Jon was settled. "My magic should have passed on to you. As the only son of my line, it was supposed to shift over and become recycled."

Jon's brow drew in. "It did," he told him. "I felt it. My magic grew."

"It grew because you came of age," his father corrected. "And you realised your bond," he added. "But that was your magic. Not mine." 

He didn't know how to feel about that. All this time without his father he had felt like his magic was the one thing that connected them. But knowing now that his father was alive and his magic was his own... "I don't understand," Jon told him, the haze was back again. "You are alive. You need your magic."

Clark shook his head. "I cannot keep it. Every day the dark heir is closer to drawing it out of me and using it against the kingdom. Kent magic in her hands would be catastrophic. Do you understand?" 

Jon started to nod but shook his head. 

His father sighed and gave him a sad look. "I wanted to get you here so I can pass my magic on to you." He bit his lip before he smiled at him. The same smile he gave Jon after every time he failed a spell or he lost a sparring match. The one that set him up to try again. "Jon, this is the last time I can come here to this place. Maybe the last time that we meet in this life." He let the reality of that sink in before he stood and Jon followed suit. 

He followed his father into their home like it was a funeral procession. Every step felt so heavy that he wasn't sure his legs would get him there. But they got him to his mother's herb cabinet where his father pulled out a jar of red clay. "When a string comes to you, follow it," he told Jon as he popped the lid. "If you remember nothing else when I leave, you must remember that. It will take you into the water. Swim after it. Keep swimming even when you think you can't."

He told Jon to take off his shirt and he did without question, letting it drop onto the kitchen table. His father worked quickly, drawing a signal on his chest with two painted fingers before he stepped back to check it. Jon looked down. It was a rune he hadn't seen before, a Pentagon holding a lopsided S at its center. "What is it?" He asked his father, noticing for the first time that he didn't have to look up at him anymore. He could look straight across into their shared eyes and the pride that was shining back at him. 

Clark smiled at him. If you could call it that. A pain that Jon couldn't fix making his mouth twist so it was slightly off. "It means  _ Hope _ ," he said softly as he brushed Jon's hair back once more before he placed his hand at the center of the symbol and hissed a spell. 

It hurt. More than dying, it hurt. Jon could feel the clay sinking into his skin like a hundred needles were stabbing it into him all at once. His eyes watered and a rush of energy rushed through him. It felt so intense that he could barely breathe and his eyes shut at the brightness. 

When he opened them, his father was gone. The house around him felt darker than it had been and cold prickles at his skin, the symbol still etched there. He ran a hand over it, but he could no longer feel the clay, like it really had sunk into him. He swallowed down his feelings and made his way back out to the fire, using the warmth to ground him. He was tired. His body wanted him to rest, to let sleep take him, but something told Jon that he had to stay awake and wait for the string to find him. 

So he waited. He waited as the day grew dim with the fire and he had to add more branches to it. And he waited some more until he was on the brink of exhaustion and he saw it. 

It was more a thread than a string. Barely there in the wink of the sun as it came up behind the castle. Jon's mind was hazy. He blinked at it trying to remember why the string was important while he watched it grow brighter. He heard his name come from it, the voice that cradled it so painfully familiar that he was on his feet. He didn't know why he had to follow the string but he knew that he had to. That someone had told him too. So he pushed forward. 

The string led him through the empty castle town. All of the shops were lit up and running but there was no one to man them. The voices he heard were made by the ghost of his memory. Jon shook his head and reminded himself to focus. To remember the voice. To follow the string. So he did. 

He stopped at the edge of the pond just outside the castle, the sound of boys laughing echoing in the emptiness and the flat undisturbed water. The string went right through the center of it, shimmering under the surface. Jon made a face. He didn't want to go into the water. It was chilly and he already felt cold. But a voice urged him forward.  _ Swim after it. Keep swimming even when you think you cannot. _ He set his shoulders and plunged into the water taking a deep breath before he descended. 

He didn't think that the pond was supposed to be this deep. He didn't know why, but he knew that it was wrong somewhere inside of him. He kicked downward anyway. Following the string until the blue turned to black and he couldn't see it anymore. 

The first breath he took was wet. It caught in his throat as his eyes cracked open to the darkness around him.  _ Keep swimming,  _ the voice reminded him. He couldn't remember where it came from or who it belonged to, but Jon knew that he needed to follow it's order. He shoved his hand out and hit something soft. Flexible. It was fabric. He struggled against it as he took another involuntary breath of water and finally shoved it off. Everything was hazy and green around him. He kicked off the bottom of the pool and pushed his way to the top, breaking the surface with a hard breath. 

His neck was sore and his shoulder's ached as he swam to the side of the pool. He wanted to lay there, but he saw the string again, the little trail of light that he had followed to the deep bottom of the pond that led him there. He grabbed at it, but it slipped through his fingers, making him stumble slightly. His legs were stiff and they didn't want to move correctly. But he followed the string and the warmth that it let off until his eyes found him. 

_ Damian _ . 

The string pulsed and his back straightened. Jon still felt stiff but it didn't matter, he pushed over to Damian who was watching him like he didn't know if he was really there. Jon throat felt dry even with the water in his lungs, he swallowed, but he couldn't push any words out when he reached him. He took Damian's face in his hands and felt him take a sharp breath, as though he had been holding it in. Damian's eyes widened and his fingers numbly clenched at his wrists as his lips trembled and tears filled his eyes. Jon rested his forehead against Damian's moving one of his hands down his neck and arm them back up. 

"You are so cold," Jon croaked with an attempted smile. 

The sound of Jon's voice broke him. Tears spilled down Damian's cheeks as he kissed Jon hard before his lips trembled too much for him to kiss him. He fell into Jon, holding him so close that they could have become one person, unable to hold himself up anymore. They slid down to the stone beneath them and Jon rubbed at his back watching the world in blue around him. He felt the bond tighten between them, reigniting the fire of his skin and willed it to sink into Damian. Everything was hazy, he remembered the arena and the fight. He even remembered dying. But the string of events that led up to it were a blur. And what had happened after… Damian held him tighter as the door behind him slid open. 

He knew the face that was watching him in a steady surprise, ghost sword in hand as he approached with a smaller man at his back. Jason looked apprehensive. Like Jon would attack him at any moment. He drew his brow in. 

"I'm not going to attack you," he croaked at him and Damian squeezed him harder at the sound of his voice. His eyes shifted to Tim, dark purple and black bruises around his throat. Jason had blood on his cheek, dressed in armor and Biz looked spent. Jon held Damian tighter his hand pushing into his hair. Something had gone wrong. "What happened?"

Tim turned to Biz and nodded him forward. The man stepped up to Jon and placed clothes before him, blue with red embroidery throughout and he was surprised to see his swords and dagger with them. He hadn't realized that he was naked until that moment and had only a moment to think to be embarrassed and wonder what the red on his skin was before Tim spoke, voice just as scratchy as Jon's. "Get dressed. You have missed a lot."

He blinked at that and Damian held him tighter still. "How long was I…" Damian whimpered and kept him from finishing the sentence. 

It was difficult to get dressed when Damian was clinging to him, but he managed anyway, strapping on his blades and dagger before he pulled Damian off of the floor and up into his arms. He was trembling so badly that he could barely walk so Jon carried him out of the cave they were in, up a path that led them back to the pit he had died in. He kissed warmth into the top of Damian's head as his sobs lessened into silent tears and his shivering became less severe. He could only imagine what it must have felt like. To feel him die and not know if this plan was going to work. He was surprised when they did not stop at the throne room, moving instead to the back halls and stopping at a large chamber. Tim motioned for them to step inside and Jon did so, walking over to a small table in the corner and pulling out a chair. Damian stayed in his lap. 

"Something went wrong," Jon said before anyone could tell him. There was no way that Damian would be this cold from a couple of hours. 

"A few issues came up," Tim agreed and dropped onto the bed looking tired. 

"Your pet tried to kill him," Jason growled out a correction. "In front of the entire arena. Caused a civil unrest that we have just barely settled." 

Jon's grip tightened on Damian and his eyes drifted back down to Tim's bruised neck. "How long was I dead?" 

"A few days?" Jason asked Tim. 

"Four," he said decisively, pointing a glare at Jon. "To which you seem entirely unaffected."

Jon thought about that, trying to recall what happened after he had been killed. It was more than a darkness. But what was it exactly? "Someone was waiting for me," he told them and put a hand over his chest. "I… they did something."

"Was it the witch?" Tim asked with eyes full of speculation.

"What? No."

"Damian has been walking with eyes black as sin. Sleeping unrestfully and speaking in tongues," he spat in an accusation. "I thought you told me that your bond was a protection."

"The bond broke when I died," Jon told him a little harshly. He didn't like what Tim was implying. "We could have taken care of it if you had brought me back right away like you promised-" 

"Your pet attacked me."

"He is a  _ king _ , not a pet!" Jon shouted back. "One that gave you everything for precious little in return." Tim stayed silent and Jon glared him down. "I am sorry for your wounds. But can you honestly tell me that in his place you would not have done the same?" He demanded. 

Tim watched him, eyes narrow even as his shoulders sank back down. He looked over at Jason who was still watching Jon hold Damian close and then back to the boys. "Take the room and fix your bond," he said finally. "I must address my men about this unrest. The last thing we need is that witch spying on us." He spun out of the room without another word and Jason followed after him, Biz closing the door on the way out. 

Jon waited for a moment before he looked back down at Damian, his eyes were closed but he was concentrating, his breathing ragged and pained. He thought back to the night at the fort when everything changed and picked him up, carrying Damian over to the bed. He sat behind him so that Damian's back was in his chest taking long and full breaths. "Breathe with me," he muttered into his temple. Damian made a noise but struggled holding his breath. "If you don't breathe, I don't breathe," he reminded him and they tried again. 

He could feel Jon at his back. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed; Damian's slowly followed. He felt safe wrapped in Jon's arms. The heat of his body pushed at the cold that had wrapped around him and frozen him within his own body. 

"I want to go home," he whispered. 

"We will," Jon whispered back and kissed his shoulder. 

Damian turned and looked at Jon. Their bond was broken. He pulled at Jon's clothes, pushed his sleeves off his shoulder before Jon stopped him. He held onto his wrists as Damian leaned forward and kissed his neck and chest. 

"What are you doing?" Jon asked. Damian slid along Jon's thigh. 

"We have to renew our bond," he replied like it was obvious. Because it was. He needed the bond. He knew that more than anything. He could feel his body screaming for Jon's magic to burn away everything in him and fill him up new and whole. 

"That can wait," Jon said. Damian shook his head and kissed him. His lips touched Jon's chest and they burned. He gasped as he pulled back. Jon let him go and Damian touched his lip with one hand and pulled at the fabric of his shirt with the other. He looked down and frowned. Jon touched the edge of the red mark smeared across his chest. Damian reached to touch it, but stopped before he could. Jon looked confused as his finger traced along the edges. 

"Ah," he gasped and grabbed his head. 

"Damian?" Jon called and touched his shoulder. "Are you okay?" He nodded and let Jon pull him in, the symbol hidden once more under his shirt. He held onto Jon as they laid there. 

-

They said that they were staying so Jon could recooperate, but he knew it was because of him. Because even with Jon so close he didn't feel like himself. His eyes didn't follow the people around him, he got lost staring at the door or at Jon. He watched Jason for an entire conversation he had with Jon and didn't remember a single word that was said. 

He felt like he was underwater. The world around him was muted and dim and so, so cold. Jon's hands on him barely pushed at the encroaching chill. He slept a lot. He fell asleep in Jon's arms, wrapping what little warmth he could find around him until he fell asleep. 

-

He blinked. Jon was asleep beside him. His neck was pale against the rich colors of the bedding. He reached out, ran his fingers over the smooth skin. He could feel Jon's heart beating beneath his fingers. He pressed his thumb against his neck and let it sit there as Jon's heart continued to beat lazily.

-

He woke up and Jon's hand was in his. He felt Jon kiss his knuckles and smile as he looked up at him. He touched his jaw and tilted his head as he looked at his neck. Jon's eyes darkened and Damian let his hand drop as Jon kissed him. 

-

The sun broke across the desert. He watched it rise. The rays broke through the darkness and cut into the shadow he stood in. He backed up and stayed in the cool peace of the shadowed doorway. 

-

"What?" he whispered into the empty hall. He wiped his hands on his shirt. "No," he breathed. There was blood on his hands. Blood on his clothes. Blood on the ground at his feet. He stepped back and looked down at the body. The dagger, Jon's dagger, stood tall in the man's chest. He felt his breath escaping him and took another step back. He hit the wall and slumped against it. 

He stared at the man. He had seen him before. He had asked him to dance what felt like ages ago. Damian looked down at the smiling man and curled up into a ball as he looked at the pained grimace on his face. He had killed him. He didn't remember anything beyond Jon luring him to bed with the promise of an enjoyable night. He heard footsteps echoing down the hall. He looked at the body and the dagger. They would blame Jon. He grabbed the dagger and yanked it from the man's chest with a bubble of blood. He groaned and shoved the dagger into his pants as he ran. 

He ran through the empty tunnels and into their rooms. Jon was still asleep. Damian stalked across the room and into the bath without pausing to remove his clothes. He watched as the water pulled the blood from his skin, away from his clothes as it washed the dagger, Jon's dagger, the symbol of their love, clean. He set it aside carefully and removed his clothes. He had them hidden and was washing his hair when Jon walked into the room. 

"You're up early." 

"I had a nightmare," he said wishing that it was the truth. 

Jon stripped and joined him in the bath. He felt him wrap around him and gasped at the shock of his chest against his back. Jon moved back and Damian held onto his neck and kissed him. He kept his hand on his chest, to keep the mark away from him. He did not know what it was and Jon did not seem to know himself. But Damian knew he did not want to touch it. 

Jon had him propped on the edge of the bath, his tongue circled around his head as the door opened. Damian's eyes flicked over and Jon jerked away, standing to hide Damian from sight while baring himself. Jason did not blink. 

"Have you been here all night?"

"Yes," Jon said, a sharpness to his voice that Damian hadn't heard before. Jason's eyes met Damian's. He nodded. 

"You witnessed the answer for yourself," he said. Jason looked back to Jon then nodded and stepped back. 

"There has been a murder. Tim wishes for you to go to the council chamber." 

Damian dressed in the clothes they had been given and held onto Jon's hand as they walked to the chamber. He felt more like himself than he had in weeks. People watched them warily. He sat down in the chair next to Jon and looked around the room. Tim's eyes were on him when he looked back at him. 

"Farri has been killed." 

"Who is that?" Jon asked softly. He looked to Damian then back to Tim. 

"He propositioned your pet," one of the council members answered before Tim could. "So you killed him." 

"What?" Jon asked. He looked to the man. 

"We do not know that," Tim said. "Jason said you were in your rooms the entire night." 

"We were." 

They talked more and Damian felt like he was missing something, had been missing something for some time. He watched Jon's anger and Tim's exhaustion. He looked at the way Jason watched them and then the way he looked at him with curiosity. 

After the council had argued their way through the situation and decided that it was indeed not Jon they all left.

"He does not look as bad today," Tim commented. Jon's arm tightened on his shoulder. 

"I told you. He is getting better. The clear moments are happening more often. For longer." Jon drew him up to his feet and took his hand. "We're going to go out for some sun."

Damian stayed by the opening as Jon stepped out into the sun. He could feel the heat, but it did nothing for the ice in his chest. Jon turned and smiled, the sun was bright behind him, but Damian's heart throbbed at the hopeful smile on his face. He felt Jon's fingers touch his cheek before his lips found his. 

-

They made it back to their room without encountering anyone. Jon pulled his shirt from his pants and looked at him for a long time. He touched his chin. 

"You have come back to me, haven't you?" 

"I never left," he replied. Jon's face tightened before he leaned in to kiss him. Jon was careful, and slow. He watched his eyes as they kissed. He talked as he removed his clothes and waited for a response. Damian pushed Jon onto his back when he got tired of the glacial pace their night was taking. Jon's eyes sparked with heat and Damian climbed into his lap. He kissed him as Jon worked him open. Damian gasped when his fingers brushed against Jon's marked skin. Jon caught his lips and brushed that same area. Damian brought his hands up to his shoulders and let the pleasure flow over him. 

When Jon's fingers left him he smiled. Jon kissed him and Damian sat up. He was careful to keep his hands away from the mark on Jon's chest. His fingers still tingled from the last accidental touch. Damian guided him in as he lowered his hips. Jon's eyes closed and his breath caught. He blinked. His head felt strange. Jon brushed his hair away from his forehead and Damian looked down at him. He sighed as he lifted himself up, then rocked back down. Jon's hands found his hips. He guided him slowly at first, sweetly. Like they were learning each other's bodies again. But he knew Jon's body and Jon knew his. And for how much he wished they could stay in this, he wanted the heat of Jon's magic to fill him. He wanted that warmth to push away the lingering chill. 

His voice rose as Jon's hands brought him down harder and faster. He could feel it building up, he wanted it. He begged for it. He lost track of his words as Jon thrust up into him. 

"Damian," Jon cried and came. 

Damian screamed. 

He threw his head back and screamed, not in pleasure but pain, as Jon's magic burned through him. His throat tore and his voice broke. He couldn't. He couldn't take anymore. He screamed again then felt the edges of flames lick across his skin as the room was filled with fire. Jon's hands were spread out as his magic fed the flames. His eyes were wide with fear as he looked at Damian. The magic flowing into him slowed and Damian's head dropped as the pain subsided and he no longer felt like he was being burned apart. A gush of water flowed over him from his head to his toe. Jon's face blurred as he looked at him. He felt a familiar chill creep down his spine. His lips curled in a grin and he rocked back on Jon. 

" _ Too late _ ," he heard his own voice say through the echo of the water. " _ He's already mine _ ." 

-

Jon sat on the floor across from the bed staring at where Damian was still laying, seemingly asleep before him where minutes before he had spoken to him with Raven’s voice and eyes. The bed was the only part of the room that had not been scorched by the flames that Jon had thrown out into the room to keep his magic from ripping Damian apart. It had been more than he expected. The power that had rushed into him was so overwhelming that Jon nearly hadn’t been able to control where it went at all. And if it had gone into Damian--

This was wrong. This was all so very wrong. 

He shoved his face into his knees and made himself breathe slowly in and out. He didn’t get to panic. Damian needed him to keep a level head and figure this out-- the only problem was that Damian was the planner. He was the one that always knew the way out. And Jon wasn’t even sure that he could talk to him now. 

He wasn’t surprised when Jason shoved his way onto the room, door splintering and scraping the ground as he pushed it open. He had covered Damian and pulled on his pants before he had sunk down against the wall, knowing that the noise would send them running to the room. Jason stopped just in the door when he saw the room blackened around them, Tim running into his back at the abruptness of it before he shoved past him and stopped a few steps in. Jon watched Damian, not trusting him even in sleep and hating how it twisted his stomach. He didn’t look at Tim until he spoke. 

“Jon... “ His expression was seemingly normal, but he couldn’t hide the wide fear in his eyes from the wreckage he was standing in. “What-” 

“He’s not better,” Jon breathed, letting his head fall back against the wall. “He’s worse. And I’m...” He looked down at his fingertips, still sparking with little tingles of magic popping out of his skin. “Something is wrong.”

No one spoke for a long time after that. 

It took Tim some time to coax Jon out of the room, promising that Jason would stay with Damian and make sure no one hurt him. Jon trusted him even though he knew that he shouldn’t. He knew that this mess had started because they had kept Jon dead longer than they agreed, even if Damian had brought that on. But he didn’t have anyone else. And even though he didn’t want to admit it, Jon was scared. 

The throne room was empty when they entered, Tim helping Jon into a chair before he looked him all the way over and turned to Biz who was trailing behind them. He spoke to Biz in the desert language and the man turned with a nod, walking quickly from the chamber, leaving them alone. Tim watched him out of the room before he turned back to Jon and picked up his still sparking hands. He jumped when he saw it, but when it didn’t hurt him, he calmed, looking at his blistering skin. 

“You hurt yourself,” he said softly. Jon didn’t answer. Biz returned quickly with a box and set it next to Tim. He opened it and reviewed the bandages and ointments inside. He watched Tim riffle through them slowly. “I didn’t know that magicians could be hurt by their own magic.” 

“I never have been before,” Jon said numbly. Everything in him felt numb and cold and just not right. “I’ve…” he hesitated and Tim glanced up at him. “I’ve never done that before. I didn’t have to speak. It was just an explosion and…” he shook his head. He didn’t know how to finish that. 

“Who teaches you?” Tim asked him a little sharply. “Surely you have a master. Someone who can help you control this.” 

“The only teachers I ever had were my parents,” Jon told Tim. He didn’t look at him, staying focused on Biz as Tim bandaged his hands. “My mother is far away in a hidden place. And my father--ah!” He clutched at his chest as he thought of his father, a red hot pain running through the mark on his chest. He clutched at it, remembering his father smiling at him as he pressed his hand into his chest, putting all of his hope and all of his magic into him. Jon jolted out of his seat and Tim darted backwards, away from him with a dagger in his hand up to defend himself. “I saw my father when I died.” He remembered feeling breathless and clear for the first time. “We have to go," he said to no one in particular as he rushed past Tim and Biz and back down the hall to their room. 

Jason looked surprised to see him back so soon, but didn’t stop him when he climbed into bed next to Damian and shook him. “D, baby. Wake up, we have to go.”

“Go?” Jason repeated, catching Tim as he rushed in a little too quickly after Jon. 

Jon ignored him and shook Damian again until his eyes cracked open and he was relieved when he saw the familiar and warm green that he loved. “Jon?” 

“We have to get up now baby,” he told him softly, cupping his cheek. “We have to go. I know how to help you.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. He didn’t know why they needed to find the Lantern, but his father had told him there was something there that Damian needed to find. He hoped it was whatever they needed to break Raven’s hold on him.

“You can not leave," Tim told him, his eyes looking wild and stern. “I forbid it.” 

Jon looked back at him as he helped Damian sit up. He was still dazed, but he did as Jon asked of him without complaint, letting Jon dress him in his own leggings and tunic. He did not look back at Tim. “With all due respect, you are not my king.” He turned back to them when he helped Damian out of the bed, letting his magic glow in his eyes. “And we  _ must _ go.” 

He moved for the door, but Tim stepped in front of him, eyes hard as Jason snapped at him not to. “If the witch is in him, he will kill you. I know he killed Farri. You know it. He will kill you too.” 

Jon’s chest clenched. He  _ did _ know that. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but Damian had been strange that morning and Jon had felt him leave the bed in the middle of the night. He knew what he had done as soon as they had asked, but he would defend Damian until he died. Again. “He won't," Jon told him. It was the only thing that he was sure of. He knew that Raven was in him, there was no doubting that. But Damian was still there. And he would never hurt Jon. “The longer we stay here, the more exposed your people are.” A bit of the fire fell out of Tim’s eyes. “We came here as enemies. Let us leave allied.” 

Tim looked like he wanted to say that would never happen. That no matter what had transpired, they could not form an allegiance with the king of Gotham- but he didn’t. He didn’t shake Jon’s hand. He didn’t smile. “Let Biz go with you," he muttered. He wasn’t asking but Jon shook his head. 

“This part is just for us," he said and even though Tim didn’t like it, he let Jason pull him out of the way. 

It didn’t take long to pack all that they had and tie it to their horses. Tim had given the order to allow them to leave, but it didn’t stop the League from forming a circle around them like curious villagers, all of them watching and waiting for action to happen. Tim was clearly unhappy with their departure, but he came to see them off anyway as Jon tied on the final bag. 

Jason stepped forward and clasped Jon’s arm. He surprised Jon by pulling him in for a hug, “It was an honor to fight with you," he told him as he stepped back. 

“You could again,” Jon told him sincerely. “Our war will not skip you. If she wins-”

“Your war is not ours,” Tim interjected, eyes sharp with his displeasure as he thrusted a satchel into his hands. He stepped back quickly, no handshake or hug in him. He waited as Jon looked to Damian still dazed next to him and then back to the satchel. He opened it and saw the belt ornament that he had been given for the contest and the pin that matched it. He looked up to thank him, but Tim had no room for his gratitude. “You have done us a great favor. We repay our debts.” He looked around at the men that had circled them and stepped forward so that his words were only for Jon to hear. “We will come when you call. Make sure that it’s worth it before you choose to do so.” 

He left with those words, Jaosn and Biz falling after him, the men circling them following their leaders until Jon and Damian were alone in the road. Jon looked at Damian, his heart feeling heavy, but hopeful as he helped him onto his horse and tied it to his own. He made sure that he was aware enough to keep himself on before he climbed up onto his own steed and kicked them toward the entrance. He muttered a quick spell at the opening of the cave, a few words of protection. A single flower pulled itself from the sand, taller and larger than he had intended, but that was good. He reached up to touch it, the full power of the Kent magic pressing into the bloom. It wouldn’t keep out an invasion. But it would be enough to give them pause, let the League prepare. And maybe that would be enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ques up The Real Slim Shady* Guess who's back y'all! 
> 
> Happy new year! We hope that you guys had a wonderful holiday season♡ and holy fuck I just realised what a horrible fucking cliff hanger we left you guys on. I'm so sorry, but honestly, the time we took off was MUCH needed. And now this story is firmly edited (I hope. I [Prubbs] did the editing so forgive me) and we are ready to bust it out. Thank you for all of your suport. I will be replying to all of your comments soon and we appreciate you soooo much! So much so that we decided that we don't want to wait a week to post again. You guys are going to get a chapter a day until this guy is done! 
> 
> Thank you for you love and patience! We hope you continue to enjoy the story♡


	18. Chapter 18

Damian could feel Jon's hands on him, he felt the warmth from the horse leave him and then the heat of a fire. He sat where Jon put him and watched the fire. His mind felt slow. He watched Jon slowly unpack their rolls and pull pieces of the dry bread they'd eaten with the league out of a bag. He watched Damian as he walked closer and held out the loaf. Damian stared at it, and willed his hand to move. Jon sighed and placed the bread in his hand before stepping back and sitting down across from him. He could feel the distance between them. 

"You should eat, Damian." 

He looked down at the bread and nodded. It took a lot of effort to bring the bread to his lips, but once he had started, he kept eating until he'd finished the piece. Jon watched him, he could feel his eyes on him the entire time they ate. When they were done Jon put water to his lips and he drank. 

He blinked and he was laying on a pallet and Jon was sitting on the other side of the dwindling fire against one of the packs. Damian watched him through the flames. He watched as his head slumped forward before jerking back up. When Jon's eyes darted to his he closed them.

Jon looked tired as he woke Damian with the same soft request. He helped him onto the horse after packing their small camp back up. Damian drifted in the shadows of the early morning. He listened to Jon hum under his breath and let himself float. 

"Where are we?"

Jon looked over to him with wide eyes. 

"Damian?" 

He looked behind him, but saw nothing but sand and the mountains in the distance, he looked ahead of them, to the side, more of the same. He looked over to Jon. There was relief in his eyes. Jon looked up at the sun shining down on them from its perch in the sky. It must have been mid day, or some time close to that. Damian glanced up, but his eyes hurt and he looked away. They had been riding all day and yet he had no memory of what they had passed and no idea where they were going. 

"Jon? What's happening?" He looked over to him. Jon's eyes dropped down to him and he swore he could see the sun shining in them as they locked on him. "I- I-" he looked down at his hands. Jon took his hand. He looked over to him as he brought his horse closer. 

"I don't know, but I'll keep you safe." 

Damian smiled at the one Jon offered him. "That's my job," Damian told him. Jon squeezed his hand. 

"You're going to have to share for a while." He held onto Jon's hand. They rode side by side for a while as the sun slowly fell from its loft.

"I'm sorry," he said and let Jon's hand go as he felt something dark slip inside his mind. Jon's horse moved away and Damian blinked as his body grew heavy again. 

-

He sat up and looked around. The fire had died, long enough ago that the smoke had faded into the night sky. Jon's head had fallen back against the pack. Damian watched his throat shift as he breathed. His eyes trailed down to the dagger wrapped around his leg. He slipped from the pallet and was across the ashy remains of the fire within a breath. He looked at the dagger then at Jon's neck, bare and vulnerable. He stared until he swore he could see the beat of his heart beneath his skin. Jon's nose wrinkled, then his eyes shot open as his head jerked up. Jon's eyes met his and he watched him recoil and scramble away from him. Damian didn't move, but his eyes followed Jon as he slowly got to his feet and restarted the fire. 

"You should go back to sleep," Jon said after a few minutes. "Rest." 

Damian just kept watching him. Jon sat down across the fire and watched it slowly grow between them. 

-

" _You'll never escape."_

"You don't know that," Damian snapped and paced along the edge of the pond. He knew there had to be a way out. He'd walked the entire castle searching for something, anything. He'd walked as far as he could into the forest and when he walked out he found himself back at the pond. He knew that it had to be here. It had to be something about this place. He'd dreamt of this pond for as far back as he could remember his dreams. Jon was always there with him. But instead this frail child was with him. She sat under a tree and criticized everything he did. He knew that he should know her. He could feel it, like a thought on the edge of his mind, but he could not remember why. She seemed amused whenever he tried. 

"I have been here a long time. No one has ever escaped." 

"I will," he told her. The water rippled. He looked at her and she was frowning at the water. "I will," he repeated. 

"What are you doing?" she asked when the water shimmered. She sounded scared, but her eyes had something lighter in them. Maybe hope. 

"I will return to him. I will not give up." 

The girl looked at him. 

"Then he will break you too." The water shimmered and she leaned back against the tree. "It is only the sun."

-

Jon did not move closer to him when he croaked out his name. He could see fear in his eyes as he looked at him. Fear and mistrust and Damian felt as he did what felt like a lifetime ago. He rubbed his chest and focused on the way ahead of them. The mountains were closer. He could see the clouds surrounding their peaks. He closed his eyes and felt the sun while he still could. He knew they would not have it for much longer. He would not have Jon for much longer. He hoped they could solve this before he lost him completely. 

-

"No!" he shouted. He fell back. Jon crawled forward in a panic. His hands reached for him and Damian scrambled back. "No. No. Stay away from me. I can't-- I can feel them." He knew it now. He knew who the girl in his dreams was. She was stuck like him. Pushed aside by the torrent of pain and misery that was her father. It was her claws that gripped him tightly, but it was his mind that had the control. "Please Jon. Go. I cannot hurt you." He looked at Jon and felt his control slipping. "I love you!" he cried and felt that control shred with the rage of a being too powerful for him to resist. "No," he screamed as he was dragged back under. 

\---

It felt wrong not to trust Damian. Everything in him wanted to tell Damian exactly where they were going and what they were doing. It was against Jon's very nature and his better judgment-- but he could not look past what he knew was certain. Jon had seen the monster inside of him, watched the black of the Raven's eyes watching him in the night. And even though he knew better than his own name that Damian would never hurt him, Jon also knew that he was the usurper's biggest threat and the lone obstacle that stood in the way of everything she wanted. 

And he could not let her win. 

He looked into Damian's eyes as they stood a hundred yards from the base of the mountain. The sun was beginning to rise, and with it the shadow was lifting fully to the mouth of the valley behind them, but the light wouldn't not sway that darkness. He held Damian's face in his hands and willed him to see him. To know that Jon was there and hear him when he said, "I love you, Damian." He watched and Damian's eyes seemed to focused ever so slightly on his face. It wasn't enough to break his trance but he was there, Jon could see him. He smiled and kissed him lightly, the first kiss he had given Damian since they left the League's hideout. He felt Damian's hand come up from his side, he grabbed at Jon's waist and he pulled back to look at him, more present still as the light grew around them. "Do you trust me?" He asked him softly. 

Damian blinked. He could not speak, but he nodded. 

Jon sucked in a shaken breath through his nose and he swallowed past the deceit in his throat. "You have to forgive me okay?" Damian's brow drew in. "When this is over. You must." 

"Jon?" His voice wavered. And before he could talk himself out of it, he let go of Damian and pulled the sun stone from his neck. 

The small flash of fear took over Damian before his Jon pressed the stone into the exposed skin at the base of Damian's throat and pressed the flat of his palm into it. He had thought about it the entire trip to the mountains. Of how as soon as they entered the fog of the valley Raven would overcome what little of Damian there was left. And he could not allow that. At all costs he had to keep Damian present, present enough that she could not have him. And the only way he could see how was through pain. 

He muttered the words that his father had in his waking death, letting the stone sink slowly into Damian's skin as his eyes turned black and he hissed in pain. He clawed at Jon's hand, a voice that was wasn't his own cursed Jon and shouted horrible things at him. 

Jon didn't stop his enchantment. When Damian backed away, Jon chased him until his back was against a tree and he could not pull away further. 

"I'm sorry," he told him as the stone grew hot in his hand, the swell of his magic inside of it sending out tiny surges. He knew it would hurt. Just as it hurt Damian to touch the mark on Jon's skin, but he figured that this way he could at least control the amount of his magic that was inside of Damian. And maybe then he would get him back. Just long enough to free him.

The stone sank until it was just protruding from Damian's skin, mimicking the Tameranian armor as it glowed in the light of the day, magic keeping it lit as it fought off darkness. 

" _Love struck fool!"_ The monster's voice hissed at him, " _You'll kill him!"_

"I won't," he told her, watching the spell seal. "He is much stronger than you give him credit for." He watched as the darkness faded from his eyes and the green he loved came back to him. 

Damian's eyes whipped around wildly, his grip on Jon's wrist still tight, but he was no longer scratching at his skin. And he looked aware. At least as aware as he had been when the sun was at it's highest point. Only now it was still the morning, and his eyes were still Damian's eyes and they were looking at Jon like they knew him. 

"Jon?" He asked in a shaky voice before the shock started to wear off and the pain settled in. He grabbed his chest and Jon held him up when his voice caught in his throat. "What is happening? Where is she?" He demanded whipping around him like he thought Raven would be there at the base of the mountain. 

"Hey," he pulled Damian closer but he continued looking. "Hey!" Damian's eyes locked on him, the grimace of hurt settling onto his face as he gripped at the stone and blinked down at it when he realized it was there. "I put that there," Jon told him and Damian looked back at him with a question. 

Jon let out a heavy breath feeling relieved and afraid all at once. He pushed the hair out of Damian's face and kissed him hard. He pushed him back up against the tree and pulled at Damian until he hissed out in pain and Jon had to pull himself back before any more magic could get into him. "Sorry," he breathed. "I'm sorry, you just… I missed you," he said lamely and Damian held his face, pushing his lips together to hold back his own want for Jon. 

"What's happening?" He asked looking around at the wooded land at the base of the mountain and the fog rolling out of the valley beyond. 

"My father came to me when I died," Jon told him. Damian's eyes widened but Jon shook his head. "I know, there is a lot we have to talk about, but there isn't time right now. All I can tell you is that I have to take you into the valley. There is someone there who can break whatever tie that Raven has on you. So I put the sun stone in you to protect you…" he trailed off. 

"But?" 

"As soon as we are in the shadow… it's going to hurt." Jon took a breath and fixed his shoulders. "So I'm going to knock you out." 

"Wait, Jon." 

"We need to go now. While the sun is out and-"

Damian kissed him. Even though Jon knew that it had to feel like fire in his chest. He held Jon's face and kissed him slowly and tenderly, filling him with deep affection and the warmth he had been lacking for weeks. He bit his lip as he pulled away and looked at Jon carefully. Taking in every part of his face. "Okay," he told him and nodded. 

Jon helped Damian onto his horse and took the saddle and pack off of Damian's. When he was done he let the horse wander away before he added Damian's bags to his own and climbed on behind him. Dread sank low into Jon's stomach as he looked at the valley path remembering the turmoil of what had happened to them last time. But that was in the past. He was stronger now. He could protect them. 

He rode up to the entrance and stopped. He helped Damian turn in the saddle so that he was facing him and leaned his forehead into his. "I'll keep you safe," he promised and with a whispered kiss to his temple, Damian went slack against him. 

He urged the horse forward, holding his breath for the first few steps waiting for something to happen but it seemed like his precautions had paid off. He sighed, weary about settling into their first stroke of good luck in what felt like an eternity. He kicked his horse into a steady gallop and headed off as quickly as the fog would allow. 

He traveled for what felt like hours with no change to their surroundings other than the mountain walls widening slightly. Damian stayed asleep against his chest but he muttered restlessly into his shoulder and every once in a while the stone would send out a great shot of light and Jon would whisper more magic into him as he urged the horse faster onward. He was starting to feel the exhaustion of his magic when they had been riding for half the day, cursing himself for not prying his father for more information before he just blindly followed a dream. He sent out feelers like he had in the in between but there was no string to follow. Just more mountain and more mist.

He was sure that night had fallen when he let the horse fall into a trot. He hadn't wanted to stop and camp, unsure of what they would find there. But it needed to rest. And Jon needed fire. He stopped to water the horse at the mountain stream, climbing off of him when he was sure Damian wouldn't fall off. He kneeled by the river, scooping some water up to splash on his face to rid himself of sweat and mountain mist. He let the water drip off his face and back down into the water, the ripple of it falling down almost making Jon miss the reflection of the man behind him. 

He turned, pulling his dagger to block whatever attack might come, but he didn't have a weapon. Instead the mist circled around them, making Jon move back as his vision was blocked and he held onto Damian's leg. 

"You must be pretty stupid to come here," the voice told him bunching around the canyon. 

Jon looked around, reminding himself to stay calm. "I was told that we could find help here," he said, proud when his voice didn't break. 

A laugh poured through the smoke. "I'm not in the business of helping people. Leave. 

"I won't." Jon set his feet. "My king needs help."

"Then your king will die. As all kings die." 

Jon grit his teeth and held tighter to Damian's ankle. He had not come this far to give up. He wouldn't leave Damian to live in this absence or pain for the rest of his life. His father had sent him here for a reason and if this man was that reason, he would hear Jon out. Jon traced a symbol in the dirt with the toe of his boot and when he felt the magic on the earth he stomped on it. Air burst from around him in a wild rip and the mist exploded backward until everything around them was clear and the man was standing bewildered ten feet away. He blinked at Jon, blue eyes looking wild as Jon stepped forward, his dagger in hand. 

"My name is Jonathan Kent," he told the man. "My king is Damian Wayne. We have traveled a long way to see you." 

The man's eyes flicked up to Damian on the horse and when they came back to Jon he looked very tired and resigned. "I should've known you were a Kent." He sighed and reached in the satchel at his side. He pulled out a paper of wrapped tobacco and lit it with a snap of his fingers. "Well c'mon," he told him and walked forward past Jon and back into the fog. He only hesitated for a moment before he grabbed the reins and followed after him. 

There was a small hut not that far away from the clearing, the fog so thick that he hadn't been able to see the fire in the windows until they were right on top of it. Jon pulled Damian down and carried him into the hut where the man was holding the door open for him and complaining how long it was taking. Jon stopped in the doorway taking in the small area, shelves filled with books and herbs and a small bed tucked into the corner by the fire place. 

"You gonna move?" The man asked and Jon apologized as he moved to the side. Jon followed him further into the house and set Damian down on the bed when he motioned for him to. 

The man stood over Damian for a moment, eyes stopping in the sun stone in his chest. "Jesus, what do you do to him?" 

"He has been possessed by the dark Queen," Jon told him defensively. "I did it to protect him." 

The man snorted and Jon's blood spiked. "You know you are the spitting image of your old man? Fucking prick that one is. Or was. Heard he died " There was no apology in his voice. "He's the reason I'm stuck in this fucking valley, living on my own in this dark mist, cursed by my own people and on the run from yours." His eyes were sharp when they looked at Jon again and the man moved to sit in the chair by the fire. "So what is it that _you_ want from me, young Kent? Please give me the great pleasure of saying no." 

Jon sighed. He was exhausted and he hadn't expected to meet this level of resistance. "Look, sir-"

"Constantine," he said and then scoffed. "They thought to send you here but didn't bother to give you my name?" 

"There wasn't much time," Jon snapped at him. "And there isn't now." He looked back at Damian, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. He tried to calm himself. As much as he wanted to defend his father, he knew that there were more important things. He knew that he could not save Damian without help and he needed to stay calm. "I know my father did many things against our people." Constantine scoffed again but Jon pushed through. "But if Azarath takes true reign over Gotham, you will never have a safe haven. Even this valley will be in the reach of the demon king and there will be no peace!" Constantine didn't say anything and Jon took advantage of his silence. "So save Damian. Save him and he will pardon you of whatever crimes you have done. You'll gain the favor of the new king. But you _must_ save him."

The silence was excruciating. He watched the cherry red tip of his tabaco burn down to the end. He looked as though the very last thing he wanted in the world was to save him- to help the son of his enemy. But the promise of leaving the valley must have been too sweet to simply give in. He tossed it in the fire and turned his tired eyes on Jon, crossing his arms. He nodded to Damian looking resigned. "Wake him up." 

-

Damian sat across from the girl. She was the only thing in this land that did not belong. He studied her, and she studied him back. He was not sure if time had passed the same here as it did on the outside. The sun never truly set. As the day grew long and the beauty of a Gotham sunset was painted across the sky Damian thought that this might be the time, but on the other side of the castle the pinks and blues of the early morning stretched their fingers into the dark. This continued and they sat in silence. 

He looked over to the pond. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the calm surface. A small ripple started in the middle and worked its way out to the edge. He watched it until the pond was still once more. 

"What is it?" the girl asked. 

He smiled and unfolded his legs as he turned to the pond. He heard laughter and felt the warmth of the sun on his skin. 

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice getting louder. He touched the water and looked over to her. 

"I'm going back to him." 

She reached for him, but he dove into the water. He swam as hard as he could down until his chest burned. He gasped and inhaled only frigid water. It stole the last of his breath and pushed darkness into his mind. He heard laughter all around him and then he heard his name whispered to him in the early morning air. He felt a smile pressed against his cheek. Lips, so soft and only his, breathed his name again. 

He gasped and rolled over to heave. He felt Jon's hand on his back rubbing as he coughed and spat nothing onto the ground, but he could feel something in his stomach in his lungs, coiling and spreading within him. A cup of foul smelling liquid was held in front of him when he stopped coughing. He lifted his head and followed the arm holding the cup to a strange man frowning at him. 

"Drink this. All of it." 

Jon took the cup and Damian tilted his head back as Jon held it to his lips. He could not resist, there was no strength in him left. He swallowed until there was nothing left in the cup and then looked at Jon. His eyes were full of worry and Damian wished he wasn't the one that had put it there. He summoned what strength he had and touched Jon's cheek. Jon smiled. 

"We made it to the mist?" His voice cut out, but he pushed through it. Jon nodded. "We should have taken the mountain pass," he said and Jon laughed. 

"Are you ever going to let that go?" 

"No," he breathed. He sighed and looked down. "It hurts." 

"That potion you just drank will calm things down." Damian looked over to the man. "For a short time. I need some supplies to kick her out for good." 

"I will get them," Jon said. 

"That's all well and good, but there are a few things you won't be able to bring me. And one that he has to get himself." 

"But you said." 

"I will help you. I still don't know what possessed - er. That's probably the wrong word to use." The man chuckled. "This is the only way short of killing her that will free him. And even then, if she's gone far enough inside of his mind that wouldn't even stop her." 

They both looked at Damian and he winced as the stone throbbed. Jon touched the stone and he could see the apology in his eyes. 

"How long until I can remove it?" 

"It would be best to leave it in. The potion would last longer." 

"It is hurting him," Jon said. 

"Hmm." 

Damian closed his eyes and listened to Jon's voice as he argued with the man. When they were done arguing over the stone they argued over the potion that Damian had been given. Then about the spell that it would take to free him. He had not before listened to Jon talk this passionately about something. He wondered if it was the man that he spoke with, or the fact that he was desperately trying not to lose Damian. He could feel that desperation in the way Jon held him through the night, or what he assumed was night, the light did not change outside the window.

"You can sleep," the man said. "She cannot reach you." 

"I feel like I have slept for decades," he said and opened his eyes to look at the man leaning against the door frame, a small bead of fire was the only light of the room. 

"You are a strange one."

"How so?" Damian asked out of curiosity. 

"I have seen men's minds crumble under the weight of another far less powerful than the princess. How did you fight her off?" 

"We sat together." The man turned from his study of the mist. He looked surprised. 

-

Constantine was the man's name. Jon told him as he got changed and helped Damian up from the bed. He felt like he had in the days after his injury as a boy. His entire body hurt to move, if it even listened to him at all. He stumbled into the chair and managed to eat without help, though his body was exhausted after that. 

He touched the stone in his chest and took a deep breath. The pain hadn't lessened any, but he refused to show it. If Constantine thought that it would be better to leave it, then he would deal with the pain. He did not wish to succumb to the presence within him. Jon and Constantine argued again about the stone and finally Jon looked over to Damian, who was pretending to sleep, and sighed. They would leave it. 

"Drink this," Constantine told him a few hours later. Damian did and coughed through the bitterness. He wiped his mouth and handed the cup back. 

Damian felt stronger by their next meal. He walked slowly, but without help to the table, ate, and put his bowl in the basin to be washed. His chest felt tight when he sat down on the stool by the door, but he did not think that would go away. 

Jon pulled him to bed as Constantine prepared the list for his final spell. He watched the mist move through the window, but again did not sleep. He shifted closer to Jon as the cold of the night crept under their blanket. 

-

"I have more of this than I thought," Constantine said when they had eaten their first meal and were sitting in the lone patch of pale sunlight. Jon had his head back basking in the light, and Damian had been lost watching him. He looked over to the man who was sitting in the shadow of his house. "I know where I can get the rest, so all I need is for Damian to bring me the blood of the hellspawn." 

"What?" Jon said, his head popping up to look at Constantine so quickly he thought it must have hurt. "Hellspawn?" 

"I need the blood of Azarath." 

"You're from Azarath," Damian pointed out. 

"My blood is not nearly pure enough. You'd have to drain me to get enough blood for the spell to work. And who would do the spell then?" He laughed, though for a moment Damian saw fear in his eyes. 

"You know of a source?" 

"I do," Constantine agreed. "Come." 

Damian looked to Jon when Constantine walked past them and into the mist. Jon sighed and pushed to his feet. "We might as well. He's the only one that can help us now." Jon pulled Damian up and smiled when he leaned against him. Damian knew now that the chill he'd felt the night before was not the dark, or the wind. It was him. Only the burn of the sun stone pushed at the freeze spreading out from his stomach. He wondered if Constantine knew that, and that was his true reason for insisting that the stone not be removed. 

Jon found Constantine and stepped up next to him. Damian's eyes drifted up and he saw it. 

"It's real?" Damian asked. 

"What's real? What is that?" Jon asked. Damian looked at him. 

"The Free People." 

"What?" 

"I will tell you later," Damian said and looked at Constantine. "There are still people within the city?" 

"And far beyond it as well. But that is not where you are headed. On the other side of this mountain is a cave. Within its depths is the monster you seek." Jon looked at the mountain and his hand gripped Damian's shoulder a little tighter. He could feel his anticipation of the struggle of climbing it. The mountain was not like any one that he'd seen before. It's peak rose past the clouds. 

They walked back and Jon insisted Damian rest while he packed their bags. Damian sat and watched him move around and the little bursts of magic that he slipped into things. He walked out to get the last of their things from the horse. Constantine stepped inside and looked down at Damian. 

"You must return before the dark nights end and the moon has returned. If we do not complete the spell by that time we must wait until the next. You will not survive that long." He handed him a small vial. "Fill this and return."

"I will," Damian said. Jon walked back in. "Are we ready?" Jon nodded and offered Damian his hand. He took it and stood. He took as deep a breath as he could manage and straightened his shoulders. "Then we have no time to waste." 

-

"What are the Free People?" Jon asked. Damian was already out of breath and they had barely started up the mountain. The trek out of the valley had taken most of the day. 

"My father used to tell me the story when I had a nightmare. Back when Gotham was united under a single King there were people who didn't feel that the king had a rightful claim to the throne. So they left our land and built a city made of green stone. He told me that it was a beacon for lost souls, but only those with the strongest wills could make it to the city for its spires touched the clouds." Damian looked up at the mountain. He could see nothing but the path ahead of them. "He always told me that there would come a time when the true king would lead them back to their homeland." Damian cleared his throat. "I thought it was a fairytale. But I saw the stone with my own eyes." He stumbled over a rock and kneeled as he caught his breath. 

"Why don't we take a break?" Jon said. Damian took a deep breath and stood. 

"No. We must continue." 

Damian was struggling. He tried not to let Jon see it, but the more that he held back the heavy breathes that were starting to sound wet the higher they climbed, the more it showed just how hard it was for him to continue. Jon bit his tongue knowing that Damian would wave off his suggestions to rest and waited for him to suggest a stop. But he didn’t. And when his footing stumbled, Jon grabbed his arm to keep him from falling off the path and down the mountain into the mist. 

“We must stop.” Jon insisted, holding tight when Damian tried to pull his arm away. “You are still wounded and in pain. If we keeping going like this-” 

“We _must_ continue.” Damian told him again. It would have come out as a bark if he was not panting in complete exhaustion. “We do not have time to stop here. We can rest after we have the blood.”

Jon huffed out a sigh of frustration. “So you intend to go all the way across the mountain on one go?” Damian didn’t answer, just stared at Jon defiantly until he finally closed his eyes and clamped down on his frustration. He was tired. Tired and afraid and that was why he felt this way. He needed to remember that Damian was also tired, tired and in pain. Of course he would want to get this done as quickly as possible. 

He sighed again and pulled Damian closer to him which obviously was not the response that he wanted. “Jon, I said we must-” he yelped a little in surprise when Jon slung him across his back, shifting his bag to the front of him and catching his arms under Damian’s knees. He scrambled to grab a hold of Jon’s shoulders before he started moving up the path again. “This isn’t what I meant!” he groped and smacked halfheartedly at Jon’s shoulder, making him have to bite back on his fondness for him. 

“You aren’t much more of a burden than I was already carrying.” He teased and hitching Damian up a little higher, getting a squeak out of him at the suddenness. He chuckled. “I think you’ve gotten smaller.” 

“Or you have turned into a giant.” He grumbled unhappily, tucking his face into Jon’s neck and offering him one blissful moment of complete content. He wasn’t lying. Damian did seem smaller to him now. They had been mostly the same size their entire lives and Jon knew that he had grown, changed with age and the burden of their journey. But he hadn’t realized just how much until then. 

He let Damian down when they reached a more narrow ridge and he had caught his breath, but tied a rope between their belts. Damian looked unhappy about it but did not complain for the air was much thinner and the road very steep. Jon started to lose his breath by the time night began to fall, half of the mountain still in their wake. But Damian insisted they continue, so Jon persisted, following him as closely as he dared when the path became too narrow for them to walk side by side. 

The path plateaued once they hit the half-way point, leveling out just above the fog so that it looked as they were walking on clouds. The sky was an inky black, only the smallest silver of the moon showing through a night blazed with stars. Jon's parents had always taught him to fear the lack of light, that it would be the undoing of them. But he looked at Damian when the path was wide enough for them to stand side by side, the fire reflected in his eyes, and wondered if something so beautiful could truly be so bad. 

Damian stopped walking, grabbing Jon's hand to pull his attention back to the path. Jon looked ahead, surprised to see that there was a fork in front of them. One a winding, wide path leading to the top and the other an even walk ahead, ground cover in cloud making it almost impossible to see the cliff face. There was a sign stuck up between them, elegant letters written in green paint. It was unlike any language that Jon had ever seen. He looked to Damian and asked, "What does it say?" 

Damian stepped closer to it, squinting as he went through the languages he had studied. He muttered a few things to himself and frowned back at Jon. " _No matter the path, you die free men._ "

Jon scratched the back of his neck. "That sounds promising," he muttered and Damian looked back at him not amused. 

"Which way do we turn?" 

Jon looked at the wide clear path longingly. "If we climb up the way is clear."

"But the path is longer." Damian sighed and looked at the foggy cliff side. "So we go straight?" 

Jon didn't like it, but he agreed. 

They made their way along the edge as carefully as they could. It was near impossible to see, even by the torch Jon had made for them. Eventually they gave up on trying to see and settled feeling their way across it. It was slow and exhausting work that they did in silence, knowing that if they made one mistake then it would all be over. They would have come all this way for nothing. It was a relief when the sun started to turn the deep black around them grey, the heavy cloud to a fog light enough that they could see their boots on the ground. But by the time they made it to the next plateau, both of them were breathing hard having climbed through the night in the ever thinning air, soaked through from the mist. 

"We have to stop," Jon told Damian when he clutched his chest. He looked like he wanted to refuse, but he couldn't say no. "You are in pain and the air is too light for me to carry you. Just for a moment's rest and we can go from there."

Damian had only to nod before Jon sank down to the rock and leaned his back against the mountain, the divot just wide enough that he could have lain across it if he wanted to. Damian practically fell to the ground next to him, sinking down and putting his head in Jon's shoulder.

"Just a minute," he told Jon and he watched as Damian's eyes drifted shut before Jon followed after him. 

It felt like he had just barely blinked when he was awake again, the sound of careful whispers staring him out of his sleep. His hand was on his sword in an instant, jumping to his feet, blade presented at the man who was leaning over Damian curiously. 

The man fell back and shuffled up against the cliff face, eyes wide, a pad of paper held to his chest. Damian startled awake at Jon's movement and scrambled up next to him, the man now holding up his hands and speaking quickly in a language he did not know. Jon looked him over. His hair was dark, eyes bright green, not quite the color of Damian's but something brighter, less sun kissed. His fingertips had been stained with charcoal and as he spoke he held out the paper for them to see, pointing to it while repeating the same thing over and over. 

Jon lowered his sword and the man breathed a sigh of relief. "What is he saying?" He asked Damian softly as the man continued to try to communicate with them.

"I don't know…" Damian muttered curiously. Jon turned his attention to the paper, surprised when he saw a rough drawing there of Damian asleep. It was beautiful. The man pointed to the circle that he had drawn on Damian's chest. Jon looked back at Damian and the sun stone that was glowing softly there. Damian covered it with his hand and the man said something. He put the paper down and turned his hand around so that they could see the green stone in the ring on his finger. He pointed to it, then to Damian's stone and the ring that Jon had given him a little smile on his face in question. "He's one of the free people," Damian whispered, his eyes wide. Jon put his sword away and stepped forward. 

He kneeled down in front of the man. "We are looking for a cave," he told the man slowly. The man blinked and Jon sighed. He moved his hands in a circle and tried again. "Cave? With a monster inside?" He said, making his fingers into fangs. 

The man's eyes lit up and he spoke again. He shook his head and pointed to the path to their right. Jon hadn't even seen that path it was so cloud covered. 

"I think… he's saying we shouldn't go," Damian told him. "That we should turn back or change course." Damian's eyes set and he tried to speak in the man's language. Stumbling out a handful of words. 

The man's expression turned grave as he shook his head. He held up a hand to stop Damian and he fell silent. Jon watched as the stone of his ring lit up with an eerie light and one by one tiny fingers pushed out of it and onto the man's hand. Damian grabbed Jon's arm and they watched the scene play out slowly, the man somehow morphing the mist into a cave as one by one they went inside and never reappeared. He spoke slowly, explaining what would happen to their deaf ears and when he finished, the light in his ring went out. 

They stood there silently for a moment, the dread that Jon hadn't allowed himself to fear for so long. The man didn't need to use words for Jon to understand the gravity of his story. Whoever went looking for the beast did not return. But Damian did not let him wallow in it. 

He held strong to Jon's arm, eyes ablaze with passion and determination. "Still, we must go." Jon swallowed and nodded and they set their shoulders as they looked to the man. 

He looked between the two of them before he sighed. He spoke again and got to his feet before he waved them forward down the misty road. 

Jon had not expected the man to accompany them, but he led the way silently and they followed gratefully. He was less surprised when a half hour passed and they stepped out onto a wide cliff's edge, a dark cave face greeting them in the ominous silence.

"It was right here the whole time," Damian whispered in awe of the impressive opening. 

Jon stepped up to the entrance. He called a flame to his palm, but without anything to catch the fire quickly died. But it was enough for Jon to see there was no end. The man was staring at him when he turned back to Damian. "It's deep. We need to find some things for a torch. Maybe a-" he stopped when the man stepped up to him. 

He said something quickly, his voice excited as he slipped off his ring and set it in Jon's palm. As soon as it touched his skin the stone sparked to life releasing the light the man had used to tell his story earlier. Jon blinked at the light shown brighter still, the man nodded at him and Jon slipped it onto his finger. "I… thank you," he told the man who smiled at him now, overjoyed about something. He nodded and turned to Damian saying something very quickly before he rushed back up the path and left them there watching after him. "What did he say?" Jon asked. 

Damian has already turned back to the cave. "I don't know," he muttered. "But we don't have time to waste." He held out his hand for Jon, and he took it without question, the light from the ring signing brighter until they could see the cave walls. "This is the last thing. The last stop before we can return to Gotham."

"Until we go _home,_ " Jon repeated his voice soft. Damian's eyes softened and Jon pulled his hand to his lips before they stepped into the green light of the cave no one had ever left. 

As they walked further into the cave, the darkness pulled at Damian. He didn't know how else to explain it. He could feel it whispering to him, reaching out, dragging its claws along his skin. _This way._ He looked over out into the dark and the whispers grew louder. He took Jon's hand and stepped back into the glow of the ring. 

"I don't like it here," Jon said quietly. 

Damian squeezed his hand and looked out into the dark ahead of them. The light from the ring only went out a few feet before the darkness swallowed it up. Damian jumped as a noise echoed behind them. "Did you hear that?" 

"I don't know," Jon replied. His eyes looked scared. Damian looked back and tried to see out into the dark. "I don't know if I trust what I'm hearing." 

They kept walking, carefully. The cave started to slope down and Damian stumbled into Jon every few steps. It was getting harder to breathe. The air was hot, heavy. 

"Ah," Jon gasped. He turned around and the light flashed back behind them. Jon touched the back of his neck and when he brought his hand back up into the light it was smeared with blood. They hesitated. Everything screamed at him to run, but Damian knew they had to keep pushing forward. Jon shook himself and they started moving forward, it felt like wading through a river. The air and whispers roared past them as they fought to keep moving forward. 

Damian stumbled and Jon helped him find his footing. He looked down and Jon's hand was red. Jon frowned and drew Damian's arm up, there was a mark across his wrist.

"Are you okay?" Jon asked as he pulled a piece of cloth from his bag and tied it around his wrist. 

"It was just a scratch," Damian replied. He didn't know how to tell Jon that it didn't hurt. He hadn't felt it, or any other aches or pains beyond the one in his chest. 

Jon stumbled and grabbed his shin with a hiss. His sword was up and they took a few more steps in as they listened for any movement from the darkness outside of their circle. Something moved, he saw it out of the corner of his eyes and ducked. Jon stumbled back and the light disappeared for a second. Damian cried out as the voices screamed at him to turn around, run away, save himself. 

"Damian!" Jon cried out and a blast of pure light filled the corridor for only a second, but it brought silence and Jon's hand pulling him back to his feet. He didn't remember falling. Jon bent to pick up his sword and after a moment put it back in its sheath. They stopped. Jon looked around then closed his eyes. Damian could see it now, the difference in the way he carried himself when he was about to use his magic. 

" _Shield!"_ Jon called. A wall rose up and a dark shape hit the shield before it disappeared back the way it had come. "It is so small," Jon said. "Like a kitten." 

He knew that Jon wouldn't be able to hold the shield for long. They had been without the sun for days and he had to be nearly exhausted. They continued down and Damian rubbed his eyes when he thought he saw something in the distance. A faint glow. Light in all this dark. Damian took Jon's hand again and pulled him forward. He wanted to get out of this darkness. He could hear its voice beating like a drum within his head. 

The light was no light, but a steady stream of fire, oozing from the walls. They stepped into its amber glow and the green faded. Jon looked back the way they came. Then tugged Damian further into the light. As they stepped closer Damian saw an opening along one of the walls. He tapped Jon and pointed. They walked through the opening like a doorway. 

The room was vast. More fire covered the floor in streams and dripped from the wall. Damian's foot hit something and the metal clattered as it rolled across the stone floor. It was a piece of armor like he'd never seen before. As Damian looked he saw more remnants scattered across the ground near the streams. There was a pile of cloth and metal in a corner. 

"I think we found the beast's home," Damian said. Jon looked at him, his eyes wide. His sword was back out and he pulled Damian next to him. 

"Mrrrrr." 

Damian looked over and saw a small creature standing next to one of the pools. It was tiny. The thing would probably fit in his hand. It crawled forward a few feet and peered up at them with its giant golden eyes. He felt a whisper at the back of his mind. 

" _That's the beast_."

Damian looked over to Jon as they spoke at the same time. Jon's sword was trembling. Damian looked down at the vial tied to his waist and pulled it up to look at it. It was almost half the creature's size. It could not possibly be enough, and if it was the creature would not survive. The whispers were urging him forward. Crying for him to strike. Victory. Valor. Defeat the beast. Slay the monster. He looked at the little thing half hiding behind a rock and let the vial drop. The voices stopped. His knees gave out and he sank to the ground. He looked across the few feet when the creature made a curious noise and tilted its head at him like it did not understand what he was doing.

Damian closed his eyes as he thought. There had to be another source. It had taken a day to get up the mountain. He didn't know how long they had been walking in the cave, but the first of the dark nights would have surely started. He had two more days. Would they find another source with enough time to get there? If they didn't would he survive the next cycle? His chest was throbbing with every beat of his heart and even in this hot room that had Jon sweating as he stood guard above him, Damian was cold. 

He looked at the creature that had taken a few steps back but looked even more interested in them. If their roles were reversed, if the blood was needed to save Jon he knew that he would have struck this creature down and completed the spell. He would have mourned, he would have apologized, but he would have done anything to save him. Because Jon was worth the blood on his hands, the dirt on his soul. He had already been helpless to keep Jon's hands clean. He wouldn't let it happen again. 

"I'm sorry Jon," Damian said. His voice cracked. Jon looked down at him and he could see it in his eyes as the tears started to form that Jon knew they wouldn't succeed. Damian thought that it was appropriate that their bond began in a cave of light and it would end here in the dark.

"I wish that we could have had our day under the willows." 

"Stop it," Jon whispered. "You cannot give up."

"Why not? I will not kill this beast. The spell won't be completed. Would it not be better to stay here with you-- with my mind my own? I do not want her to take me. Please." 

Jon looked at him. He shook his head in denial of the truth he refused to face. Damian would not leave this cave. A roar broke the quiet. 

Jon moved suddenly guarding him as he'd always done. Damian peered around him. Where the small monster had been before, there was a giant beast standing next to a pool. It's wings were outstretched and blocked out the light so a shadow fell on them. Damian looked at the beast, and saw gold eyes observing them. It walked forward. The sword trembled in Jon's hand as he looked up at the beast. 

"Jon," Damian called as the beast's head tilted to look at them. Jon glanced down at him and Damian reached up and touched his fingers as they gripped the hilt. 

The beast lowered onto all fours. Somehow it looked even bigger as it swayed across the small distance. It's wings flared as it bowed its head low to the ground. Gold eyes found his and Damian reached out. 

"Dami-" Jon started then went quiet as Damian's hand touched the beast and a low purr filled the room. He nudged Jon who put the sword away and placed his hand over Damian's though he looked like he was prepared to pull them both away if anything happened. Damian felt something warm push at his mind and he smiled. 

"Goliath?" he asked. "That is what you wish to be called?" 

The beast lifted its head and chirped. Jon startled as Damian laughed at the joy that burst through and trickled down his spine. 

"It looks like we have tamed the beast," Damian said. 

"What? It couldn't have been this easy." Jon frowned and looked around like he was expecting an attack. 

Goliath nudged Damian's leg with his head. 

"We were the first people that didn't try to kill him. He knows we will be good masters." 

"What? How do you know that?" Jon asked. 

"I don't know? I just do. I think he told me?" Damian said. Goliath chirped again and jumped into the air. When he landed he was small again. Jon was pale when he looked up at him. Goliath leapt into Damian's arms and snuggled against his chest. 

"If he can grow bigger then perhaps we could take some of his blood and he would not be harmed?" Jon asked a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Damian looked down at Goliath whose tongue lolled out as he rubbed his belly. 

"I think he'd be okay with that," Damian said.

"Then we should go," Jon said and pulled him up to his feet. "We need to get you back to Constantine." 

"I might need help," Damian said. Jon looked surprised when he looked down at him. 

"Then you will have it," Jon replied and pulled his arm around him and kept him steady. Walking out of the cave, even though it's incline was steep, was somehow easier than their descent. He suspected it had to do with the creature purring happily in his arms. Goliath jumped out and hopped around every so often. He flew ahead of them dropping bits of fire along the route to light their way. 

Jon was practically carrying him when he heard a low growl. 

"Goliath?" Damian called and he came back in his hulking form. He hovered behind them as they walked. Damian could hear voices as they approached the entrance to the cave. They stepped up and into the faint light. The day still obscured by the fog. A group of people stood at the entrance. When the man they'd spoken to before saw them he made a shocked noise and started forward, but stopped when Goliath let out a growl and stepped forward, his arm warm against Damian's back. 

"What's going on?" Jon whispered. 

"I don't know, but we don't have time for it." 

Jon could see that any energy that Damian had managed to hold onto up until this point was spent. He watched him lean back against the giant and took a step forward and then another as he walked up to the man that had brought them there. He took off the ring that he'd been given and handed it back to the man who was now blinking at him dazed-- as though Jon were a god and the ring had not been his before that moment at all.

"Thank you," he told him quietly and stepped back before he turned to Damian. He held his hand out to him and Damian took it weakly and let Jon pull him forward so he could pull him onto his back. Jon turned back to the crowd who was still staring in silence and started walking. They parted to make way for them as Goliath trudged behind them, staring them down with a low protective purr. 

Jon managed to wave the fog away with a whispered spell, at least enough for him to see the path. But Jon was tired. He had not slept a full night since before they had left the League, and being in the dark for so long made him feel gaunt with the lack of sun to recharge him. When they got back to the over hang where they had rested, he set Damian down and tried to catch him breath in the thin air. The next part would be harder, he knew that. And he also knew that he didn't have time to waste on his exhaustion. 

He looked at Damian who was leaning against the cliff side. Any pain that the spell had taken away was now back and clear on his face. He knew they had to keep moving and he also knew that Damian would not be able to scale the mountain. Jon moved to pull Damian back onto his back when Goliath nudged him gently. Jon blinked down at him, he hadn't noticed when but he had shifted into the size of a large dog, his head nuzzling Jon's hand. 

And he had so many questions about this creature. His parents had never told him about this kind of magic, a magic so old and natural that no words needed to be uttered-- but Damian was in no shape to tell him what the beast was thinking. And the only think Jon could think to ask was, "Can you help me?" 

Goliath looked up at him with his bright eyes for a moment and then, before his eyes, Jon watched him shift in size again until he was roughly the size of a horse-- if that horse was two more horses wide. He kneeled on his front legs and looked at Damian and then back to Jon, and Jon didn't need that to be translated. He helped Damian up onto Goliath's back and once he was settled, Jon climbed on after him. He held on tightly to Damian, turning him again so that Jon could hug him into his chest, just managing to catch a hold of the beast's mane before he tensed and launched them upward. Jon let out a startled shout as then launched off of the mountain, watching as Goliath unfolded his wings and caught the air. And they were flying. Actually flying. The mountain side raced by them and Goliath took them higher, through the mist and straight up into the golden pink haze of the waning sun. 

And it was so beautiful. 

Jon forgot to breathe as he looked across the horizon, so close to the sky that he felt if they waited just a moment longer that he would be able to reach out and touch the stars. Goliath's feet brushed perfectly over the top of the mist, leaving wisps of smoke behind them and everything was so at peace for that one perfect moment. 

But it _wasn't_ perfect. He looked down at Damian, his eyes closed, brow creased and covered in a cold sweat as he clung to Jon's shirt. And any joy he had felt at flying slipped away. 

He brushed the hair off of his brow and watched as his eyes shifted behind his closed lids. The sun was setting. Jon didn't know how long they were in the cave, but it felt as though a day could have passed. He didn't know how long they had been gone or how long Constantine's spell was supposed to last, but he knew that they didn't have much time left. And conquering the beast, going back to Gotham, winning back their home-- even flying above the clouds! None of it meant anything if Damian wasn't there to see it. 

"We have to get to the other side of the mountain," he told Goliath frowning when Damian shivered. "As fast as you can. Please," he added quietly as he pulled Damian closer. 

Goliath dipped back into the mist and they pushed so quickly through it that it felt as though they were flying through a wall of water. He kept Damian tucked into him, shielding what he could of him from the water. He whispered a small shield charm, holding onto it until he was out of breath and had to let go. Damian shivered harder. 

Jon didn't know how long they flew. But it had been dark for hours by the time they landed in the valley, the base of the mountain a hundred yards behind them. Goliath shrank down again, making it easier for Jon to climb off, pulling Damian down with him and putting him on his back again. As soon as they were down Goliath shrank again to the size of a kitten and pawed at Jon's leg, golden eyes tired as he too shivered from the cold. He smiled and leaned down to scoop him up and let him settle on his shoulder, snuggling into Damian before he started back through the woods. 

It felt like the longest walk Jon had ever taken. He knew that wasn't possible. He had walked across a desert. He had made a journey across the entire country-- but even with all of that at his back it was this trail that weighed on him. Every step digging in a little deeper than the last, Damian and Goliath weighing more and more the further he went. 

His lungs burned. His shoulders ached. But still he pushed forward telling himself that each step was important. And if he could keep his feet moving then he would be a little bit farther than they were before. 

It was impossibly dark by the time he saw the light from the windows of Constantine's hut. He could have laughed. Or maybe cried if he had the energy. But as it was, Jon could only get them to the hut and kick open the door. Constantine had been sitting at his table reading, but startled when Jon fell into the doorway, falling to his knees in complete exhaustion. He scrambled over to them and helped carry Damian over to the bed as Jon used everything he had in him to push himself off the floor. He limped over to the bed as Constantine got Damian settled. 

He turned on Jon, his eyes bright with disbelief. "I can't believe you made it back." He told him, shaking his head. "Did you get the blood?" 

"Better," Jon panted and pulled Goliath gently off of his shoulder into the cradle of his arm. 

Constantine watched Goliath leap onto the bed with a frown. "What… is that?" 

"That is Goliath," Jon told him, bracing himself on the bed post. "The beast from the mountain." 

The man blinked at Goliath again. "You expect me to believe that _this_ is the beast that-- _Holy hell!_ " He shouted and jumped back when Goliath expanded to the size of a lion. He wrapped himself around Damian and purred. If Jon wasn't mistaken he could have sworn his eyes spark in amusement. "You didn't kill it?!" Constantine demanded. 

Goliath growled, baring his long teeth and Constantine let a aura of dark magic swirl in his hand. "Enough!" Jon shouted, stepping between the two of them. "It does not matter how we got here- you said that you needed the blood of Azarath, Goliath has agreed to let us take it. We brought him to you, so please, help--" Jon stumbled, his head feeling light as black spots played at his vision. Constantine caught him before he fell. He stepped Jon back to the plush chair next to the fire and sat him down. 

There was something in Constantine's eye when he kneeled in front of him. A spark that hadn't been there before, something alive and a little insane. "I will cure your king," he told Jon. His voice firm and a wicked smile peeled across his face and his eyes flashed before they went totally black. "Just sit back and watch."

Jon sank back into the chair watching Constantine move around the hut as his eyes fought to stay open. He watched as he ground together hearns and burnt them. As he held his hand out to Goliath and the beast handed him his paw. Constantine mixed the blood into the ashes, using to draw a symbol on Damian's forehead. Then he started his spell. 

Jon fought to stay awake. He wanted to see it. The moment that Damian opened his eyes and it was really him. No pain and no phantom behind it. Just Damian. 

But Jon was tired. 

_So_ tired. 

And he slipped into unconsciousness as Constantine's whispers echoed around the room. 

-

Soft fingers brushed against his cheek and Jon turned into the warm rough palm that slid after it as the finger gripped softly at his curls. He heard a chuckle, felt the breath on his lips and he reached for it. His hand caught fabric and he grabbed it, pulling it to him until warm lips pressed into his and Jon felt like he could melt into the floor. His eyes opened when Damian pulled away from him. Jon was still in the chair he had been pushed into, Damian kneeling between his legs. 

He looked so different from the last time Jon had seen him that it was startling. He hadn't noticed just how bad it had become, how thin he seemed, and pale with the natural warmth of his skin snuffed out. But the Damian in front of him now was brand new. He looked healthy, the glow back in his skin and the circles under his eyes all but completely erased. And he smiled at Jon. Actually _smiled_. And Jon couldn't believe that he had been so close to never seeing that smile again. "D?" He choked out, throat clogged with great emotions. 

Damian nodded and Jon let out a shuttered breath as he pulled him into his lap. Jon kissed him with everything he had, everything that he had been storing inside of himself. "I love you," he told Damian feeling desperate and raw and relieved. "I love you so much." He gasped as Damian pulled at the ties of his shirt. He pulled Jon's shirt over his head and blinked down at the mark on his chest. He reached out to it slowly, touching him with the very tip of his finger and when it didn't hurt him, he pressed his palm into Jon's chest. He looked like he wanted to say something but shook his head and kissed Jon again letting him pull him in again. "Constantine?" He asked. 

"Out," Damian breathed. "I do not know for how long."Jon pulled off Damian's shirt and frowned when the sun stone wasn't there, only a scar of where it had been. "It shattered," Damian said into Jon's neck. "I'll tell you after."

"After?" Jon asked stupidly, drunk on the touch of his skin and his mouth. 

"The bond, Jon," Damian reminded him as he pulled at his trousers and slipped out of his own. Jon watched him, still exhausted from their journey. His entire body was sore, but his need for Damian was greater than that. 

And even though Damian urged him to hurry, Jon took his time working Damian open until he was panting against the back of the chair above Jon's head, his cheeks flushed, looking so fucking beautiful. "Jon, please," he begged him. And Jon gave him what he needed, holding his hips in place as Jon pushing into him, deeply and sweetly as he could. Heat swelled inside of him and he looked up at Damian for any sign of pain. But his eyes were glowing emeralds, burning into his own and Jon couldn't bold back anymore. He grabbed at Damian, pulling his orgasm out of him until the heat was too much and they were both falling over. 

And it was way more intense than Jon had anticipated. He had expected it to feel like it had in the cave, like a wild pulse and a rushing swell of power and love. This was an explosion. The magic didn't spill over, it erupted out of them from all sides, blowing out the windows and the furniture all around them splintered away. It was all Jon could do to hold onto Damian as the bond wrecked it's way around them until they were left in the middle of the damage perfectly unscathed. 

Jon looked up at Damian who was still in his lap, eyes wide in wonder of what had just happened. And for the first time in entirely too long, Jon could feel him again, their connection. He bit down hard on his smile as he grabbed Damian's face and kissed him. He kissed him for every time he had been able to before and for every kiss he had thought about since. They didn't pull apart until it was too hard to breathe and they were both panting, lips swollen as they pressed their foreheads together. 

Jon watched Damian's eyes travel across the room. "Constantine is going to be angry." 

"I am sure he would have found a reason to be angry anyway." Jon sighed and smiled when Damian looked back at him. "How do you feel?" He asked softly brushing his thumb over Damian's cheek. 

"Whole," he said simply, and after a moment he grinned wickedly and added, "Maybe a little cold." 

"Well we can't have that," Jon insisted and moved to pull him back in when he heard a rumble of voices from outside. "Do you hear that?" He whispered to Damian. He didn't answer but kept his eyes focused on the still closed door, barely hanging on its hinges. 

They dressed quickly and haphazardly, Damian grabbing Jon's father's dagger while Jon found one of his swords. They walked to the door slowly and looked at each other. Damian was ruffled and thoroughly fucked- but his eyes were deadly and Jon knew he was ready. He pulled open the door and they stepped out into the misty break in the trees, stopping dead in their tracks on the porch when they realized that they had been surrounded by at least three hundred men and women. All of them staring at the pair of them like they hadn't believed they were real. 

Jon grabbed Damian's hand not sure how they were supposed to feel about these strangers, but the man from the cave stepped forward and the tension in his stomach elevated. He spoke and Jon turned to Damian, his brow drawn in as he tried to understand it. "He said something about Goliath… but I don't--"

"What did you do to my house?!" Constantine demanded when he came running back to them, pushing through the hordes of people around it. Goliath, who had been sitting on his shoulder, jumped to the ground, morphing into the size of a lion once more as he stalked back over to Damian's side. The crowd gasped and muttered in astonishment, and only then did Constantine seem to notice they were there. He stood in front of the porch and looked back at Jon and Damian. "What do you do to them?" He asked with a raise of his brow. 

"We don't know what they are saying," Damian told him, not taking his eyes off of the group. 

The blond looked at Jon unimpressed and a little quizzically. "Why don't you just--" he shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Right. You're a Kent," he muttered and before Jon could complain at him, he muttered a spell, eyes turning inky black once more before he reached over and tugged on his ear and then Damian's. 

Something high pitched rang in his ear for a moment but when it faded, he could understand the muttering around him. He blinked and looked at Damian who seemed just as shocked as he was before Jon turned to Constantine who was lighting tabbaco. "What did you… how-"

"Simple," he told him with a smirk. "You Kents and all of the mages in Gotham are too goody goody. You work with nature and gain it's trust and that is what gives you your power right?" When Jon didn't answer his smirk turned into a grin. "My magic _defies_ nature," he told Jon. "That's why you were too weak to save your king. Why you _need_ me."

Jon opened his mouth to complain, fury stuck in the back of his throat but the man from before was speaking again. "Great Kings." He bowed before them. "We have long awaited your arrival." 

"What do you mean?" Damian asked and blinked when the language they did not speak fell out of his mouth. The crowd whispered again and another man stepped forward. 

He was older than the young man before them, his shoulders broad, and grey streaking through his blond hair. The group hushed until silence enveloped them, and only then did the man speak. "My name is Hal." He turned to Damian and continued. "I assume by the look of you, that you are the young King of Gotham." It wasn't a question. 

Damian gripped Jon's hand but kept his gaze firmly forward. " _We_ are the kings of Gotham." He told him. 

Hal smiled at that. Or Jon thought he might have smiled, but it was gone quickly after. "We are the Lanterns. The free people of what once was a united country. We fled for the mountains long ago and have been waiting for a very long time for this moment. For the day that magic and man once again stand hand in hand." He waved at their hands and the crowd muttered and silenced itself again. "We fled from Gotham at the beginning of the war. The war that your forefathers began." His eyes turned dark and his voice grave. "We have been waiting for the true king of Gotham. The man who will come and unite us all, restore balance so we may once again live as one kingdom. So I must ask. Is this your intention, young Kings of Gotham?"

Jon looked at Damian, watching as the doubt waver over his eyes. He squeezed his hand and Damian looked over at him before his shoulders set and he looked back at Hal. "We want peace," he told him firmly. "But first we must win the war."

Hal nodded and his eyes sparkled. "Then you will have our swords." They watched as he drew his sword and stuck it into the ground, kneeling in front of them. The mutters were back and after a moment, they started to raise their hands into the air, green light bursting out from random places into the misty sky. "Long live the kings of Gotham!" Hal called back to his people and in one thunderous roar they shouted it back. 

Constantine looked over at Jon from where he was leaning on the post of the porch. "Hope you don't expect that from me," he grumbled. "You broke my house."

"Then come with us," Jon dared him. 

He narrowed his eyes. "A dark mage and a Kent working together?" He smirked. "It feels unnatural." But he nodded and pushed past them walking back into the ruins of his home. 

Jon turned back to Damian who was still looking out at the green light. They locked eyes and for a moment, he felt his disbelief. They had done what they had set out to do. They fixed their bond. They had gathered an army. But the celebration was short lived. Jon wasn't positive if the dread that hit him was Damian's or his own-- but it was there like a rock in the pit of his stomach. 

They had their army. Now they headed into the war. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone tell me why the "You wanna see real speed?" sound popped in my head as I opened this to post it.
> 
> Anyway... Here's another chapter. Feed my children. :D


	19. Chapter 19

Damian couldn't stop looking at Jon as they rode ahead of the group at their back. He was smiling as the fog of the valley had long since faded and there was only sunlight shining down on them. Damian could feel the joy and the warmth Jon felt like it was his own. But that was nothing compared to the way everything just bloomed when Jon looked at him. Damian couldn't pick out a single emotion from the flood. He pulled it in and wrapped it up and wondered how Jon could feel so much. It was so big and bright and blanketed him in _love._ But did he do the same for Jon? 

"What's wrong?" Jon asked when they stopped at the crest of another mountain. Damian had insisted they take the mountain pass when the conversation had come up. He had looked at Jon with a raised eyebrow challenging him to suggest otherwise. Jon had agreed with a laugh. 

"It is nothing," he replied and leaned against him. Goliath roared and they looked up to see him flying in what he assumed was his largest size. Jon's hand tightened on his shirt like he would throw him out of the way when the beast didn't slow. Damian felt Goliath's joy, the barest tickle of awareness against all that was Jon, and held his hands out as he transformed back into his kitten size. His hair moved with the force of the wind that followed him in. He licked his face before looking at Jon and chirping at him. 

"Are you trying to scare me on purpose?" Jon asked as he rubbed his head. Goliath jumped from his arms onto Jon's shoulder and bit his ear before flitting down and around to peer up at him from his hip. Jon yelped and rolled his eyes when Goliath jumped and ran off to terrorize the Lanterns. 

"That is a beast from the depths of hell," Constantine said. Damian looked over to him. He hadn't heard him walk up, but he was certain now that Constantine made it that way. "You broke it." Constantine nodded at where Goliath was laying while a group of women pet his stomach. His tongue was hanging out and puffs of smoke leaked out in waves. 

"He's been alone in that cave for his entire life. Let him be happy," Damian said. "You've been alone for a lifetime, do you not wish to be happy?" 

Constantine let out a long stream of smoke and looked up into the sky. "My happiness would not greet me with coos and belly rubs," he finally said. "If she is even alive." He dropped the glowing flame and stomped it out before walking away. Damian watched him and felt melancholy flow up over his shoulders.

"I wish we could help him," Jon said.

"He would not want our help. I was surprised he came with us." 

"I was not," Jon answered plainly. "We should not stay here for long. It feels like rain." 

Damian looked up at the cloudless sky, but he could feel the static of the storm building somewhere in the distance. He'd never felt that before. Jon stepped forward and Damian called on Goliath. He perked up and flew to him, perching on his shoulder as Damian climbed back onto his horse. The others were quick to respond. 

They had made it to the low plains at the end of the mountain range when the rains started. Goliath chirped and jumped off his shoulder. Damian watched him fly in chaotic circles before landing in a small puddle. He looked up at them in awe before jumping to the next. Damian helped Jon set up the small tent the lanterns had given them as the others did the same. He was wet and mud coated his boots, but he was surprised that he wasn't cold. Jon complained until he pulled his wet clothes off and left them to dry. 

Heat curled it's way around his spine as he hung up his shirt. He smiled and looked over his shoulder to see Jon watching him. He pulled his pants off and flung them over the line. The heat he felt from Jon was molten, it spread through him and pooled in his belly. He closed his eyes and let the emotion pull him in. 

"You never felt like this before," Damian said as he settled on the blankets next to Jon. The heat coursed through him as Jon's hand slid along his neck and into his hair. 

"You've always made me feel like this," Jon said. He kissed his neck and then down to the jagged marks the sunstone had left in his chest. Jon leaned back and Damian knew what he would say. He could feel the heat sour. "You have not told me how it broke." 

Damian sighed and laid his head down. Jon looked down at him before rolling so his head was laying on his stomach. He chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair. Lois had never let it get this long. She had always tugged on Jon's curls and complained and within that week they would be gone. Damian always mourned their loss. 

"I do not remember much of it," Damian said. "It was like flashes. I was laying in the bed. Then I was in the pond and everything was quiet. Then I was back in the bed only Constantine was standing over me. His eyes were black and his words struck out at me. I swear that I could feel them like blows." He slowed his fingers. Jon shifted, his eyes moved up to him. He pushed past the words that his mouth had spewed, the roars that had filled his mind. "I breathed and I was in the pond once more. And the world was on fire. I watched as it burned. When I opened my eyes again, my hands were wrapped around his throat, but he did not stop." Damian's hand stilled and his heartbeat skipped a beat. "Then you were there in the pond with me. The castle was burning. I could hear my family screaming my name. All of them, my father, my mother. I knew it was her voice as easily as I know yours. I wanted to go to them, but you touched my wrist. You held me there. And then you smiled and the chaos quieted. I couldn't hear their cries anymore. I only heard you, only saw you, and felt only you." He took a breath and Jon's head rose with his chest. He went back to petting his hair. "The sun stone shattered as I woke for the last time. Constantine's voice was barely above a whisper and the blue of his eyes was returning. He passed out as he threw a cup of the most foul smelling concoction on me." 

Damian remembered staring at him, terrified that he'd failed before the spell was complete, but as he sat there in the room with Jon passed out across from him and Constantine on the floor beside him he felt warm for the first time in days. Goliath had crawled carefully out from under the bed and curled up in his lap, then in his arms and the warmth had spread. He hadn't realized how much he hadn't been feeling until he tried to get up off the floor. Once he was sitting on the edge of the bed Constantine had startled awake, his eyes were black as he raised his hand at him. Damian hadn't reacted. He hadn't known how to. He could have done nothing to stop it. 

"That idiot saved you," Constantine told him. "He was still connected to that stone. It takes a lot of power to overload a sunstone like that." He'd looked over to Jon as he still slept. "I've only seen one person before him do it." Constantine picked up a chunk and handed it to Damian. "He'll probably sleep for a while. Damn near drained himself. You should sleep too."

"Thank you," he said and laid down. Goliath plopped over his legs. 

"I don't want your thanks. I just want that bastard to die."

When he'd woken later, Jon was still asleep and Constantine was outside griping at Goliath. He heard him shout and then stomp away. When he'd gotten up to check he was stalking after Goliath into the trees. 

"Then you woke up and reminded me why I love you." 

Jon made a shocked noise and lifted his head to look at him. He could feel the bubbling happiness as Jon pinched him and complained. Damian pulled him in and kissed him. His eyes falling closed. They did not dare move for more when there were people only a few feet away with a tarp separating them. He doubted the tent would fare as well as Constantine's home if they had the same reaction and that had been left in shambles. 

-

"We'll continue on," Hal told them when they stopped at a split in the trail. Jon had sent a message to the front at Tameran the night before telling them to expect the Lanterns. As much as they had wanted to follow Jon and Damian into the Hidden City, he knew that the next part would be best to go alone. 

Jon nodded and shook his hand. Then turned to Kyle, the man from the cave, and held his hand out as well. Hal called out and the group started moving past them. Kyle reached into his bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Jon and chuckled. "I thought you would want it." 

Jon unfolded the page with a frown, then his face lit up. Damian tried to see what it was, but he folded it back up and thanked Kyle before he could. 

"I don't really feel like sieging a castle. I'm going to stick with them. You two have fun though," Constantine said as he walked behind the last of the group. 

Damian scoffed and waved. When it was just the two of them again Jon took his hand. He smiled and looked at the path ahead of them. The low grass and the rolling hills. The hidden city ahead of them. 

"I'm scared," Damian said. He looked over to Jon. "What if he's not-" 

"He is," Jon insisted. Damian felt the truth. Jon believed it with his whole heart. He took a little of that belief for himself. Goliath landed a few feet in front of them and growled. Jon's hand went to his sword, but before he could draw it four men stepped out of the grass. 

"Is this beast yours?" one of the men asked and Goliath growled. 

"He is," Jon answered. Damian tutted and Goliath bared his teeth, but walked back to him. He shrunk down, but his back still brushed against Damian's hand as he pressed into his side. 

"It cannot roam freely. There are rules." 

"He will not leave us," Jon told them. Damian looked at the men who were glaring at them. But the man that spoke stepped aside and they walked forward. Damian hadn't been awake the first time they'd walked in the city. But as he stepped into the dark hall he felt like a completely different person than the one that had left. Goliath chirped and shrunk down and snuggled into Damian's pack. Jon took his hand and they headed back to their family. 

Jon stopped outside the door. He watched him pause and felt the apprehension. Damian took the knob and pushed. 

"Jon?" Lois said, her voice barely above a whisper. Damian pushed Jon forward. He let his hand go and wrapped himself into his mother's arms. Damian watched them and could feel Jon let go a little. A thud in the hall drew his attention. His father was standing in the doorway, his shoulder against the wall as he stared at him. Damian smiled and his father reached out for him. 

"You're really here?" he asked as he held him to his chest. Damian nodded, his throat thick with emotions. "You're really here," he whispered and hugged him tighter. 

Bruce did not release Damian for a long time. Long enough for the wind that swept through the cave, providing a low hum, to die into a restless stillness and the fire in the hearth fell into soft breathless embers. Lois had long since let go of Jon, eyes pouring over his face in a well of barely kept emotion until she could usher them all to the table and fill them with a tea that warmed them to the tips of their fingers. She fussed about Jon's hair. And the breadth of his shoulders. The inches that she had not had the chance to see him grow. And then she fussed over Damian. Over his complexion, his thinness, the scar on his chest right under his collar bone where the stone had broken just peeking over the ties of his shirt. 

The King, however, sat in silence. He clutched the cup of tea tight in his hands and let his eyes dart between them, like he thought at any moment one of them might disappear or turn into a wisp of smoke. Damian reached out and held tight to his father's hand when his eyes got stuck on Jon, an expression of loneliness and deep sorrow carving a face that had once looked so young. It was enough to pull him back into the present, his eyes dragging away from Jon and moving with the conversation, but the pain in his eyes never left. 

Lois spoke first, telling them of everything that had happened since they had left to find their army almost half a year before. There was a general unrest in the Hidden City that had come on a wave from the storm to the west beyond the borders of Tameran. Many of the mages who had kept holed up in the city for decades before had started to flee, following the Singh's across the ocean to their home until the events to come had passed. Jon's stomach soured hearing of the Singh's departure. Running away when they most badly needed allies, when Jon had come to think of them as friends. Damian put a hand on his knee under the table and squeezed. He could tell through their bond that the Singh's departure had not surprised him in the slightest and neither did Jon's reaction to it. More than half the city had apparently followed, and by the grim look on their parent's faces, Jon knew there had to be more to the story than they were willing to tell. They quickly turned the conversation on their sons. 

Jon was surprised at how much they already knew. Diana had written Bruce many times since they had left the Themiscyra and kept Lois and Bruce informed of all that she knew. Lois' eyes misted in pride when Bruce read over the part about the sunflowers guarding the pass in Tameran and how he had been teaching new magic to its people. And Jon held tight to Damian's hand when emotion flooded over to him as his father smiled, saying Diana rarely was ever beaten in a game of chess. But everything after their stay was blank space waiting to be filled. And the dread that stretched between Jon and Damian was shared as they thought of telling it. 

They spoke well into the night, talking about the end of their journey, taking turns filling in pieces when the other one could not get through it. And to their credit, Lois and Bruce listened in awed and unhappy silence until they reached the very end and Goliath wound his way out of Damian's bag that hung on the back of his chair, up to his shoulder. 

Lois jumped back when he grew a size bigger and leapt onto the table, "Y-you brought it here?" She squeaked out.

Jon reached forward to pull him off the table into his lap where he grew bigger still until his head could see over the table. "He is a friend," Jon insisted and looked over at Damian. He scooted back and Goliath jumped into Damian's lap. "He saved Damian's life," he said simply and smiled at his mother trying to calm her nerves. 

He looked back at Damian while Goliath inched his way out of his lap and padded slowly over to Bruce. He shrank down to kitten size when he stopped in front of him, staring up with his bright shining gaze. Bruce frowned down at him but after a moment he let out a curt, "Hn," and carefully scratched the top of his head. Goliath purred. 

They all watched the two of them for a moment, Lois' eyes going surprisingly soft as she watched Bruce. "And then we came back here," Jon finished with an exhausted sigh. "We sent the Lanterns on to the front at Tameran. They will be waiting for us when we're finished."

"Finished?" Bruce asked, contributing to the conversation for the first time since they had sat. "Finished what?" 

"The siege of the castle." Damian said solemnly, eyes hard as sharpened steel, stirring up a vast number of emotions in Jon's chest. "We're taking back our home."

-

The fight that Bruce and Damian had after that lasted almost the entire night. Jon had wanted to stay, to stand by Damian and support his decision, but his mother pulled him to the stoop outside where they could sit in the flickering torchlight of the cavern. The door did little to mask their argument, but Lois assured Jon that most of the families that had been around them were gone now. They sat in silence for a while just listening until Bruce's voice went dangerously quiet and Lois chuckled, startling and surprising Jon all at once. 

"It's just nice to know there is still some fight in him," she told Jon with a tired little smile before her eyes drifted back to the torch across the cavern. "He hasn't spoken this much since we left Gotham. I am surprised to admit I actually started to miss it." 

Jon watched her amused smile, the pain hidden in the curve of it. He watched her until he couldn't hold in the question he had been dying to ask since that day in the castle when the courtroom door slammed in front of him. "Did you… know?" He asked softly. He could feel his mother's eyes shift to him but kept his on the ground in front of him. "About Bruce and Pa. Did you…" he trailed off not knowing how to finish. 

He waited a moment to look over at her and was surprised when he did to see that she was smiling softly at him. She brushed his hair behind his ears and sighed. He knew that she was dying to cut it, but for the first time in forever she didn't say anything. She just pushed it back and held onto his face for a moment before she let him go with a deep sigh. "What you have to understand, Jon, is that your father and I did not choose each other. Our marriage was arranged not long after I was born and I grew up knowing that your father was mine. And I was his. At least that's what _I_ thought. But I was young," she said simply. And she didn't look sad when she said it. It was a matter of fact. "There are very few people in this world who get to experience a love like you and Damian have. Most of us just hope that we can learn to love each other. I loved your father. I am grateful for the life we had, but he was never really mine. I knew that. And it took me a very, very long time to accept that. But your father gave me something better than a passionate love." 

Jon blinked at her, "What was it?"

And she laughed, a big belly laugh that almost sounded like it hurt her throat. The laugh she used to let out when he and his father would come back from the castle drenched from the rain and smiling like lunatics. He hadn't heard it in so long. His mother grabbed Jon's hand and held it tight in her's and when she opened her eyes again they were alight with pride. "You, Jon." She told him so softly and still it felt like a punch to his stomach. "Your father was a gifted magician and a fine warrior, but above all else-- he was a kind man. He had a choice to make. I asked him to, after your brother…" he cleared her throat. "When I found out I was pregnant with you I told you father he had to choose. You and I, or Bruce. I would not let him have both. I was prepared to raise you alone, take you back to the valley I was from. But your father was a good man Jon, and in the choice between his son and the love of his life, he chose you. Unblinkingly."

He sat with that, a pit in his stomach as he tried to think about what he would have done in his father's place and failed. "I knew Jon," she said finally, eyes turning back to the porch across the way. "But I think at a certain point, I stopped caring. Your father was good to me. He _tried_ his very best to be a good husband and right the wrongs he had made in our past. But some bonds cannot be broken, even when they are gone. They haunt you. But Clark adored you. That's all I could have asked from him." 

Bruce's raised voice sounded from behind the door and Jon felt the warm burn of defiance that Damian got so much pleasure from through their bond. "Is Bruce going to be okay?" Jon asked quietly, a burn of hurt sinking through him. There was a battle coming. Jon knew that he and Damian needed to talk about it. He knew that at any stage in their next mission one of them may not make it out and if Jon had a choice in that-- he would save Damian every time. But he worried. He now knew exactly what dying would do to Damian and that was with their first bond this new one felt… stronger. Bigger. Like all of the spaces he used to have had been filled. If this was the bond that Bruce had with his father…

"I do not know," his mother told him honestly. "Your father and Bruce had a powerful bond. His death has changed Bruce and even though his wounds have healed there is a rawness there. All we can do is give him time." 

A shout sounded through the door, both of their names calling them back in to join the fight again. Bruce looked furious but Damian wasn't backing down. There was a pink undertone to his cheeks and his eyes were vibrant and so damn beautiful that Jon jumped when Bruce pulled him back into the conversation. "And are you also insisting on this alliance?" He demanded from him, Jon looking at Damian in question but Bruce didn't stop talking. "The whole lot of them are liars and murderers. Your mother would have-"

"Mother is dead," Damian told him and for the first time since they had left the room he wasn't yelling. His voice deadly and steady. Demanding. "And we _need_ the help. If we are going to win back Gotham, the best strategy is stealth. The less men we take with us, the better chance we have of making it into the castle. And the less men we have the more skilled they have to be." He waited a moment and when Bruce didn't say anything he continued. "The League owes us a favor. I trust them." He looked at Jon. 

"I trust them too." He nodded and they stood together looking back at Bruce who looked at Lois hopelessly. 

When she didn't offer any help he closed his eyes, breathing down his anger. "Fine," he told them and when he opened his eyes again he looked like the king he had been before all of this happened. "But I'm going with you." 

"I hoped you would," Damian said softly. He felt the last of his anger fade as he took in his father's surprise. "No one knows our land better than you." 

"You are aware that when we show these killers the way into our kingdom-- your castle, we will be enabling their betrayal." It felt wrong for his father to call it his castle. It was not his. He may have called himself King, let Jon insist upon the title, but sitting across from his father he felt all the petulant prince that he'd been before the attack. It was not his Kingdom, not yet. 

"They did not have to help us," Damian said. He looked to Jon. He had glossed over the result of his battle with Jason when he was telling the story. Damian had let him continue without interrupting. He remembered so little of the time following it and what he did remember he wasn't sure that it was real. "But they did. And they have my trust." 

"Very well," his father said. Though he did not look like he was happy and Damian knew that they would be discussing it further. 

"How do you do that?" Damian asked. His father looked at him, question clear on his face. "How can you stop? I know you disagree. I would continue to argue my point, but you pause." 

His father huffed. A twinkle of amusement in his eyes before he frowned. "The king before sought no council. He saw how he wanted things to be done and if they were done any other way they were not done at all. I learned that my opinions were not welcome. It has stuck with me more than I would have liked. But I have found that if I take the time to think other options become clear." He sighed and looked tired. "I am tired. You are correct though, I do disagree. We can talk more tomorrow. After I've slept. Lois?" 

"Yes?" she said as she stepped back into the room with a cup. He watched as he took it from her with a soft smile. He did not think he'd ever seen them anything less than cold and stiff with each other. It felt strange. She turned to them with a tired expression. "It is late. You should rest while we can." His father set the now empty cup on the table and offered his elbow to her. She helped him up and down the hall. Jon rubbed a finger on the inside of the cup and smelled it when they had gone. 

"Sleeping draught," Jon said. "For a dreamless sleep." 

Damian stood and looked down the hall. He could not remember which door was theirs. So he followed Jon when he grabbed the cup and went to the kitchen. He rinsed it out and set it aside. He watched Jon touch a glass jar that had remnants of a leaf on the bottom. 

"She's almost out. We should pick up some more tomorrow," Jon said to himself. He was touching his chest when he turned back to Damian. "We should probably stop by a few places to get more supplies. Who knows what state Gotham is in." 

Damian agreed and took Jon's hands. "You seem worried," Damian said. Jon looked at him and closed his eyes as he put his forehead against his. 

"Just thinking," Jon replied. He tugged him in and Damian breathed against his neck. He could feel that Jon was hiding something, but trusted him to share it if it was important. He heard a door shut deeper in the home and Jon pulled back. "We should sleep." 

-

Jon was already awake and talking with his mom in the kitchen when Damian woke up. He looked around and then at Lois. She frowned slightly. 

"He's still sleeping." 

He sat at the table and watched as Jon and his mother moved around each other. Not needing to say a thing to know exactly where the other needed to be. He had watched them like this a few times, when he was a boy and would sneak out of the palace in the middle of the night to wake up at the Kents' home in the morning. They had always had this natural almost orbit. All of them. Like they belonged together. It made Damian wonder if he and his father ever looked that way. Or if they looked as cold and distant as Damian felt that they must.

"You should head to Isley's before it gets too late," Lois warned them after they had eaten. She gathered what she needed to tend to his father and fixed Jon with a stern gaze. "Try not to linger too long. We do not what to cause any trouble for her." 

Damian had felt eyes on him when he'd walked the streets before, but now it felt different. He hadn't thought twice about Lois' warning until they had made it out into the valley, unable to shake the unease that came with the hallow look of what had once been a bustling marketplace. There had been a wary distrust before, but now they looked outright terrified. Lois hadn't said anything when Jon had told her they'd be back, but he could see that she had wanted to warn them. 

"Mrrr?"

Damian looked down at the bag slung over his shoulder. Goliath's head was peeking out as he looked around at the half filled main street. It had been bustling when they'd walked down it last. 

"Do you think he can walk on his own?" Damian asked. 

"I don't know if that's the best idea. He might scare them," Jon said as if the people didn't already look scared. They hurried down the street to Isley's. Damian just wanted to get away from the stares. Jon knocked and looked back there was a group at the corner watching them, but they didn't look angry, just concerned. 

"Oh it's you!" Harley said with a wide smile when she swung the door open. "Come on in." 

Damian looked back one last time before stepping in. 

"Surprised to hear that you made it back." 

"As are we," Damian replied without really thinking. Harley laughed. 

"Everyone was sure that you'd return with an army and destroy us all," she said as she half danced down the aisle further into the shop. "I don't see an army with you," she said and spun to face them. 

"What?" Jon asked. 

"You can't be surprised. You know why this city was built," Harley said. She looked at Damian and made a face. 

"The kings of Gotham have not been kind to our people," Isley said as she climbed down from the floor above them. "There are still many who fear them. Many who left because of that fear. Is that beast going to eat my plants?" 

Damian looked down and saw Goliath was hanging almost all of the way out of the bag. A single foot remained in like he thought he was still following the rules. Damian scooped him up before he could snag one of the flowers off of the vine next to him. 

"Oh my!" Harley exclaimed with visible glee. She rushed forward and when Goliath stared at her she stopped and stared back. Then Goliath chirped and she laughed and caught him when he leapt at her. 

"Let me see your list," Isley said and held her hand out. Jon stepped forward when Harley started asking about Goliath and Damian followed Isley. She set the list down on the counter and walked down an aisle. 

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked. 

"I had fear for the change your rule might bring," she answered. "Though you are not the same boy that left, are you?" He shook his head. She touched a vine and it reached out and touched him. He let it wrap around his finger and up his wrist. He watched it grow and a flower bloom in his hand. Isley stepped forward and plucked the flower off the vine. "You're not afraid of your bond any longer," she said. 

"It is Jon," he replied. "Why would I fear him?" She offered him a smile and went back to her plants. 

-

They spent the day packing. Lois and Jon worked on spells until Damian could feel a small thread of magic pulling from him. He felt it and followed it and when it hit Jon it abruptly cut off. 

"Damian?" Jon called in a panic. Damian sat up and looked over the chair into the kitchen. "What just-" 

"I don't know?" Damian replied. 

Jon didn't pull on him again and after a while the spells stopped and they just cut and packed satchels with the leaves. He watched them for a while before venturing down the hall. He knocked lightly as he pushed his father's door open. He was sitting in a chair in the corner by the fire, a blanket was wrapped around him. His eyes took a moment before they focused on Damian as he sat on the corner of the bed. 

"May I ask you a question?" His father nodded and his entire face lightened. "Did you know that they were magic?" 

"The Kents?" He nodded and his father shifted. "I did, but I should not have." 

"Why?" 

"I was the king." 

"You _are_ the King! You could have changed everything. Jon didn't have to grow up afraid of me because he had magic." 

"Our kingdom was not ready for that. We had just lost half of our men to a war with magic. Our lands were battered. Our peoples' hearts sore. I did what I could. I stopped listening to suspicions, stopped searching for magic at every door. But I knew I could not ignore the proof when it was brought before me. I could not allow open use of magic. I could not lift the ban because within our lands those with magic is too small of a number. Fear of their power still ran too high. I forced them to hide so that they would not be struck down by their neighbors in fear."

Damian looked at his father and for the first time saw the guilt and weight upon his shoulders. The burden of being king and the cost of every decision.

"I will not punish magic. I will not force them to hide. Jon will stand beside me as King, proudly displaying his power." 

His father looked at him and then looked back at the fire burning. "I wish I had been so brave." 

-

Damian stood with Jon's hand in his as they waited. Lois and his father were sitting beneath the crop of trees on the edge of his vision. He did not like standing in the open field, but it was as close to the city as allowed and they could not be snuck up on. Jon nodded and Damian saw the movement in the distance. He watched as Jason and Tiger searched the horizon. When they were close enough Damian looked at each of them. They were all in the similar clothes that they had worn in the desert, except Tim. He was in armor not unlike Jason's, dark red accents striping through the cloth. Damian held his hand out and Tim looked amused before he shook it. 

"You are certain that this is how you wish to use our favor?" 

"We must defeat her," Damian said. "It is not wise to fight a war on two fronts," he said. Tim hummed. He offered his hand to Jon. 

"You look better," Tim said as they started walking over to their parents. Jon had been pulled in by Tiger and Jason. 

Damian introduced the group to their parents. Goliath growled at them all and shifted into a bigger form, which jostled his dad. He touched his face and asked him to calm down. He looked behind him and saw Biz's face as he stared at the beast. He looked like he'd seen him, or something like him before. 

"They are friends," he said and brushed his hair.

"For now," Tim commented. Bruce grunted and Damian glanced up at him. He looked back at Goliath. He was focused on him and had stopped growling. 

"Maybe you should walk ahead of us," Damian offered. 

"If he eats us, you'll get no help," Tim sighed and took Jason's hand. They walked ahead even though Jason looked like he wanted to do anything else. 

They walked for days. There were times when Tiger or Jason left them and came back looking strangely calm. Tim crouched next to him as they took a break. 

"That is your father?" Tim asked. Damian nodded and watched as Jon helped Bruce sit down next to the small stream. He leaned against him for a second before straightening and frowning deeply. "He is not what I expected." 

"How so?" Damian asked. 

"I've heard the stories of the horror and strife the king has brought on his people. I expected him to look angry and mean." Tim frowned. "But he just looks sad."

"He is," he replied shortly and Tim hummed. 

They sat in silence and watched the others. He wondered what Tim saw in their odd group. Lois and Tiger were chatting to themselves. Jon and Biz talked as his father rolled his eyes and pet Goliath's belly when he squirmed his way into his lap. They didn't look like they were on their way to invade a castle. Or they didn't until Jason walked up beside Tim. Damian looked over and realized where he and Tiger had been going. Tim brushed the two specks of blood off Jason's cheek. 

"We should not stay here long. Where is this passage?" 

"It is not far," his father answered. Jason grunted, irritation clear on his face. The closer they got to Gotham the more emotion he saw on his face and the closer he stood next to Tim, like he was afraid he would be stolen away. Damian glanced to Tim. He saw a spark of excitement and didn't doubt that Jason's worry was warranted. He had spoken a lot with Tim about Gotham when they were with the league, and he'd always sounded like he missed the place that was once their home. Jason didn't hold that same care. Though he knew that he would do whatever he thought would make Tim happy. 

After Jason ate and refilled his pouches with water they started down the stream. The trees and underbrush grew thicker and hung over the water. His father stepped into the water and walked upstream with steady steps. After a second Damian followed him. They kept walking as the stream became their path. He looked around at the thick foliage and wondered if anyone would be able to see them. He looked back and met Jon's eyes. He offered a tense smile. 

His father stopped and looked back to Damian. He met his eyes and then looked back ahead of them. There was a pile of old stone, covered in algae ahead of them. The water bubbled over it and moved around it. He watched as his father pushed and the top stone shifted. He looked back at Damian and he stumbled forward to help. The stone moved with a low grinding noise and then Damian was looking down into a hole. He looked over to Jon. 

"I need a light." 

Jon stepped up and they looked down into the hole as Jon dropped a light in. The stone inside the hole looked as ancient as the fort. He had never seen anything like it within the castle. 

"It is an ancient escape tunnel. Clark found it when we were children. It leads to the store room beneath the kitchen." 

"There isn't-" Damian started. 

"We sealed it, but Jon should be able to get us through." 

Jon met Bruce's eyes and nodded before touching Damian's hand. He watched Jon drop into the tunnel and then the light grow from within. Damian sighed and dropped in. The air was stale and rank. Damian looked down either side of the tunnels, it continued far in both directions. He could hear the echo of their feet as each of them dropped into the space. As Tiger dropped in last his father motioned to the stone. It had a divot and Biz reached up and pulled it shut. Damian's heart thundered as the dim daylight was shut out and only the glow of the light in Jon's hand lit their way. 

"Here we go," Jon said to himself and started down the path that his father directed. 

The tunnel had a strangely fresh scent for such stale air. The wet stone around them smelling like the water from the creek and fresh mud after light rain. It was an oddly comforting scent, the smell of home, the place they were now breaking into like criminals. 

But it was easy to keep from being sentimental. No one dared speak as the path started to incline and everyone shifted. Damian shifted back behind Jon and Jason stepped up so that he was next to him. Damian had not liked the idea of Jon going out before him, but Bruce had agreed that it would be smartest for them to enter the castle in waves. Jon and Jason would go first. With Jason's training and Jon's magic it would be the easiest for them to carve a path through whatever guard Raven would have with her. Damian and Tim would follow after. They were the fastest and the smallest. Jon didn't know how good of a warrior Tim was but something about the way he held himself assured him that he and Damian were well paired. Then Biz would follow after with Bruce, and Tiger with his mother. Whoever found where Raven was hiding first would signal the others, Jon and Damian would communicate through their bond and Lois with Biz and Jon through a stone they have connected with an enchantment to run hot with the right touch.

They stood almost at height with the stone floor of the kitchen store room and everyone watched as Jon ran his hands over the bottom of it. He stopped when his fingers hit a smooth slice in the stone, tracing out the rune his father had put there. Jon muttered, " _Hemage,"_ while he pressed the flat of his palm and felt the stone give way under his hand as if he had found the hatch on the door. 

There was a collective breath from all around them, the feelings of relief and anticipation twisting together like vines up the wall. Jason turned to Tim with a mutter, cupping his cheep in a gentle caress before he pulled himself up, out of the opening. Jon turned to Damian, his eyes shining at Jon in a determined fury before he pulled him in for a hard kiss.

"As soon as you see her and not a moment after," Damian hissed and Jon pulled him back in so that he could kiss him again. Could make himself feel brave. 

"Not a moment later," he agreed and looked back at the rest of the group, taking Bruce's hard nod and his mother's tight smile with him as he gripped Jason's hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another meal for you. :D no Tiny Tim's on out watch.... Except you know the one in the story. 
> 
> -DNA


	20. Chapter 20

Jason pulled Jon up and together they slid the stone door shut again, waiting for a moment after it's close rang out around them to see if anyone would come and investigate. The air was still, almost as stagnant as the underground pass, nothing there to disturb it but their almost silent breaths. He took that moment to feel it. To let his heart race and his throat tighten as he looked around at the stone of the room. The same stone that he had seen his entire childhood holding up his home above them. But he only had a moment. When no one came, Jason nodded to Jon to lead the way, drawing a dagger silently from his boot. 

Jon crept forward, unable to clamp down on his heart that picked up speed on each step of the stairs. They creaked under his feet though Jason was silent behind him. And when he reached the top, Jon peered into the kitchen. There were two people in it. An elderly woman, Ms. Parsons, who had been the chef of the castle for as long as Jon could remember. She was rolling out bread with a young woman Jon recognized but didn't have a name for. She had always been sweet on Jon, sneaking him sweets when she caught him sneaking in and out of the castle in the early mornings. They were always in the kitchen right before dawn at the start of each week so they could start making rolls. That way the dough would rise before the kitchen was full and bustling. It was all so normal. It took Jon's breath away. He stepped out from the doorway and pulled his arm out of Jason's grasp when he tried to yank him back. He stepped forward, sliding his sword back into his sheath when the young woman looked up with a startled gasp as she slowly put together what she was seeing. 

Ms. Parsons grabbed the girl's arm and covered her mouth before she could say anything. Her eyes were wide as they took in Jon like she was seeing a ghost appear in front of her. He offered her a warm smile and her eyes filled with tears as she croaked, "Clark?"

His father's name hit Jon like a stone. His smile wavered but he didn't have time to correct her. "Take the girl and go," he told her quietly. "Out of the castle." She just stood there with her eyes gleaming, mouth pressed into a thin line to keep whatever she wanted to say in. "As fast as you can." He urged her forward. After a hesitant step, she tugged the girl's wrist and dragged her out of the kitchen down the back stairs that led to the garden at the west entrance. 

"That was foolish," Jason told him as he walked up next to Jon, watching the two women flee. 

"There are good people in this castle. People that need our help," Jon reminded Jason as he moved forward, past the table covered in half cut dough. 

"You cannot expect this to be a battle without casualties." 

"And you cannot expect me not to try and limit that number," Jon told him back. A little burn of determination settled in his chest as he led Jason out of the kitchen and up the stairs. The passage let out into a small alcove outside the dining hall. There was a servants' passage that could be followed toward the east and west wings where the many bedrooms in the castle resided. Jon walked out first with his short sword in hand, peeking around the corners to see that it was gratefully empty. He stepped out and placed his hand on the door of the dining hall, waiting for Jason to call his blades to him before he pushed it open. 

It was empty as well. The only light coming from a pair of dimmed torches at either end. The table was bare and the room was cold. Colder than Jon had ever remembered it being in the palace, even in the harshest of winters. He walked slowly over the stone floor, the echo was quiet but present enough that it lit up his chest with the warmth of memories spent there. Sitting at this table with his family, both given and chosen around him. Jon felt a pull at his chest where the bond tethered him to Damian. A small reassurance that he wasn't in the castle alone. And Jon longed to turn around and see him there at his side, walking with him-- but it was still Jason. And he had nothing pleasant to remember there. 

They moved through the dining hall and out the other end that released into the main passage that connected to the courtyard. All they had to do was pass through the courtyard to get to the courtroom and that connected to the entrance hall. But it would be heavily patrolled no matter the time. Jon took a breath to ground himself. Damian and Tim would have come out after them by now they would be heading to the west wing where Damian's chambers and the library were. After them, the rest would follow Bruce to his chambers. All Jon needed to do was get to the courtroom. And if she wasn't there, they would wait for the signal from the other groups before they drew her out of hiding. 

"How many guards are in the courtyard?" Jon asked, squatting next to Jason who was peeking over the artfully cobbled wall before he ducked back down to his side. 

"Four," he said gruffly. 

Jon swallowed. "Whose?" 

"Does it matter?" Jason asked him but didn't wait for Jon to answer when they both knew that it wouldn't make a difference. 

They moved around opposite walls of the courtyard, doing what they could to keep an eye on each other and the guards as they went. Jon pushed his magic into the ground and tried to feel out the full number of them. Jason was right, there were four in the courtyard. They stood with each other talking instead of at their posts. There were another set traveling not far off from where Jon was. Three more coming up on Jason from the entrance hall. Jon waited until the last possible moment to move, pushing himself over the top of the half wall as quietly as he could. He ran up on the men as silently as he could while moving fast, relieved to see that they were wearing Azarathian colors. It made it easier to silence them before the other guards were close enough to find them. 

He caught the first one by surprise, slicing through his vocal cords like butter before the second one even saw him. The man fell at his feet and the other braced himself to shout when he caught sight of Jon and stopped, holding his own mouth with both of his hands. Jason pulled his own sword out of his two guards and strode over to him, ready to attack when Jon stopped him.

"Duke?" He breathed. 

"Jon?" He asked back as though his name being said was already answer enough. They stepped back to look each other over. Duke's father had been in the guard with Jon's when they were both still young. He'd died in the war against magic and the guard had taken Duke in without a question. He'd been raised by so many different families, living between the palace and soldier's homes-- Jon never thought that he would see him again. Especially not in enemy colors. 

Jon's eyes went hard but Duke shook his head reaching for Jon's hands. "No, it isn't what it looks like," he told Jon fiercely. 

"There isn't time," Jason growled at both of them and looked down at the bodies. 

There was a clamber from the side of the courtyard that Jason had entered from and the three of them hurried to grab the bodies and drag them off into the shadows before the soldiers found them. They watched silently from behind a tree as the trio moved as if bored around the paddock not giving the courtyard so much as a glance. As soon as they were out of sight, the three of them moved, slipping from shadow to shadow until they were at the entry across from the courtroom. They looked both ways before charging out of the shadows and pushing open the doors, slipping in as quietly as possible. 

The door clicked shut before Jon heard a shout from behind them and two men came running, a shadowy mist in their fists. The one to the right threw one at Jason and Jon called a shield out between them before it could hit. Jason spun around the wall that had caught the spell and sank his blade into the man's side. The other one turned to Jon almost horrified as he advanced, hissing out a spell that sounded like a curse. Jon reached out with his hand and closed a fist, letting his magic stop the man's voice. He dropped the dagger he'd had in his hand and sank to his knees, grasping at his throat as Jon marched up to him.

"Where is she?" Jon asked the man. "Your queen." 

But the man looked up at Jon, his face red and his mouth turned into a sinister twisting line. He grabbed his dagger from where it had fallen and before anyone could move to stop him, he drove it into the side of his head, through one ear and out the other. 

"Damn it," Jon hissed and dropped his hold on the man, turning back to Jason who was watching grimly from the other corpse. The two of them looked back over to Duke who was standing frozen where they had entered, looking at Jon with wild eyes. 

"Y-you're one of them?" 

Jon's eyes went wide for a moment before he managed to clamp down at the panic that was still a reflex in the back of his throat. He swallowed it and kept his shoulders high. He would own this because it was who he was. It was the truth. And it was time for him to prove that magic was a gift, not a curse.

"I'm nothing like these people," Jon told him. 

Duke grit his teeth, glaring at Jon in betrayal. "You used magic!"

Jon nodded and he could feel Jason tensing next to him. "I did. I do. And I always have-- but I'm still _me,_ Duke."

But anger is a powerful emotion. Jon's father had taught him that at a very young age. He used to tell him the story of his and Damian's grandfathers. How they had spent their whole lives together just like Bruce and Clark, and Jon and Damian had come to after. They were friends. Best friends and Jonathan was the King's most trusted adviser. But one day he found out about Jonathan's magic and it didn't matter to him that he was his friend. That their families were forever bonded. His anger rose and he struck down Jon's grandfather as if he was a stranger on the battlefield. Jon could see that kind of anger in Duke's eyes. They ugly hurt of betrayal as he spun on his heel and launched himself out the door screaming, "Intruders! Intruders in the courtroom!" As his armored boots thumped against the stone walkway. 

"We should run," Jason said softly but braced himself as a clamor started down the hall. 

Jon shook his head and drew his long sword. "There isn't time." He pulled the rune stone out of his pocket and pressed his thumb into it. Then closed his eyes and reached out to Damian through the bond. They could not communicate like Bruce and his father had, but Jon knew it was enough. Damian would feel his stress and come help. He would know where he was. 

He had known this would probably happen. You can only plan so far until something goes wrong, and something always did. But still he hadn't expected this. This overwhelming feeling of dread that sank into the pit of his chest and kept him from taking a full breath. His pulse spiked and he gripped at the hilt of his swords like he thought they might slip through his fingers. And Jon knew it was time. He had done the training, now all he could do was use it. With no hesitation. If he died, he wouldn't be brought back again. 

He stood next to Jason as the doors opened with such a force that they hit the walls. Air rushed past them as a few guards tumbled in. They took a look at them and the two men on the floor and Jon watched as their eyes turned inky black as they ran forward. The first two went down easy. Jason ran both of them through with one sword and shoved back to let them slide off the end of it as he caught the next with his other blade. 

But that was all Jon got to see of his fight. Five men rushed at him, three with swords and two with the same poisonous smoke dripping through their fingers. Jon barely got a shield up before the first one was pelted at him, catching the sword coming down on him in the cross of his own. He turned and launched out of the man's brace before he sliced him open. The next guard stumbled in surprise of the other man's death, giving Jon the perfect opening to turn around him and slide his sword between his armor and down through his heart. A blade licked across his forearm and Jon hissed as he parried it away, relieved to see that the wound wasn't deep. But there was no time to stop. Black smoke flew at him and Jon barely managed to dodge it, when another one hit him square in the face. 

He coughed and sputtered, blinking as everything around him started to twist and shudder. He stumbled, using the momentum to rush forward and tackle the man who had attacked him to the ground. The man's eyes were still jet black, and he grinned at Jon, whispering his curse at him. Jon grit his teeth and pulled his dagger out of the sheath on his leg and drove it into the man's head. 

Jon's vision started to clear when he pushed himself back up, barely missing a sword aimed at his head. He grabbed the arm that brought it down and drove his dagger up through his jaw, yanking it free when the man stopped twitching. 

He looked over at Jason who was breathing heavily as he pushed the last of his kill away from him. The first wave was over but there were more coming, their shouts ringing through the open doorway.

"Are you hurt?" Jon asked him. 

"No," Jason told him and his eyes caught the crimson on Jon's arm. "Your arm."

"It's not deep," he insisted as the next group pushed in. They were mages. All of them. Not a single one carried a weapon, but all of them had black eyes and malicious grins. They shouted an attack in unison and Jon pulled Jason in closer so he could throw a shield around them. The plume of their curses flared up around them, making the room look dark and shifty through the cage light that covered them. "I have an idea," Jon whispered when the curse was at its darkest. "But I'll have to drop the shield. Hold your breath."

He didn't give Jason a chance to say anything against it as he sucked in the deepest breath that he could and pushed the sheild out. It rocked the smoke out of the way and pushed back against its casters just long enough to hiss " _freeze,"_ out through his teeth. Ice trickled out onto the floor and once it was around him Jon blew hard and listened as the men around him startled and then silenced as the ice took them. 

Jon took another deep breath in before Jason pulled him back to his feet to look around at the frozen men as the fog lifted. Jason stared, his mouth slightly open as he took in the damage Jon had done with one word. He shivered and Jason tore off his wind guard to tie it over Jon's wound.

"Thank you," he muttered. Jason nodded, still at a lack of words for what to say. The ice cracked under their feet and as they walked out of the door into the entrance hall. There weren't any other guards coming their way. But he could hear shouts across the courtyard coming from the west wing where Damian and Tim had gone. Jason and Jon didn't have to say a word before they both went running in that direction. 

-

Damian stopped in the stairwell. Tim looked over to him. He raised an eyebrow and Damian shook his head. He could have sworn he heard something. But he had been fighting the feeling that they were being watched since they stepped into the palace. So he pushed it aside and moved forward. 

It was Tim that stopped next. His hand wrapped around Damian's wrist as he looked back down the stairs they had just come up. Damian strained to listen. Tim took a step as he looked back and Damian heard it, the faintest whisper of movement. It wasn't anything he'd ever heard before. But, from the look of it, Tim had. His eyes sparked and he pulled him into a run. As they broke out into the open space on his floor a giant cat jumped out of the stairwell. Tim yanked him out of the way. 

"What is that?" Tim yelled as they ran. Damian felt his heartbeat jump in his chest. He knew that color. 

"It's her guard!" 

"What?!" 

"Sh-shapeshifter!" he gasped and yelled for Tim to turn. He knew they were only drawing attention to themselves, but if the boy had found them, the Princess had to know where they were. There would be men on them before long. He threw out a call. Though he wasn't sure if in his panic he'd actually done anything. Tim dove and Damian grunted as he hit him, then Damian hit the ground. He saw the blur of green go soaring over them and scrambled to get back to his feet. 

"We cannot keep running," Tim called. Damian knew that. He just didn't know what to do. They were-

"Jump!" 

Tim looked over to Damian and then ahead of them where the window was wide open ahead of them. 

"Are you insane?" 

"Trust me!" Damian yelled. 

Tim growled, but as the cat slid around the corner behind them, he knew he would have no choice. Damian took a deep breath as he jumped through the window. He grabbed Tim's arm and the rope next to the window. He yelled as his shoulders screamed. Then Gar was making a panicked cry and Tim was clinging to him as they hung in the air. 

"Back inside!" Damian cried when the cat shifted midair. He felt Tim pull himself up, using Damian as a step before he jumped for the window. His hands scrambled for purchase and Damian was afraid that he was about to watch him fall. But his hand caught the edge and he groaned as he pulled himself back in and threw out his hand for Damian. He looked up at the man and took his hand. 

"Shit!" Tim cursed and they scrambled to pull the window shut. Tim slammed the block into place as Gar slammed hard into the wood. 

Then they ran. Damian could hear footsteps of soldiers as they rounded the corner. He looked at Tim and they knew that they wouldn't be able to run from this. Damian heard a crash and looked behind them. The block had broken and a cat so much bigger than before stepped down onto the ground and let out a roar that echoed through the halls. 

"I always thought I'd die in the desert," Tim whispered. He looked over at him and expected to see panic and fear in his eyes. But when he looked over to Damian he saw nothing but fire. Damian looked back at the cat stalking forward then down the hall to the heavy echoes of the soldiers. 

He gripped Clark's dagger in his hand and a sword in the other. Damian stared as the cat's head lowered and he prepared to jump. He held his sword up-- but as the cat leapt Damian felt it. He heard the familiar purr before Goliath barreled into the beast. 

With that he turned back and Tim was already down the hall. He ran to catch up and they took the corner together. Damian lost track of how many men he'd struck down. Tim's knives sliced through the air with deadly accuracy. He paused in his throwing just long enough to pull them from the bodies on the ground. Damian dodged and struck. He blocked a blow meant for Tim, but could not move. Tim drove his knife into the man's throat and then pulled it out and threw it at the man running for them. Damian let the body drop and turned to face the next. But the air felt different. It felt charged. 

"Fuck," Tim gasped and stumbled into him as he clutched at his throat. He could see it, the fog wrapping its way around his throat, forcing its way into his mouth. 

"Damian, down!" 

He dropped and pulled Tim with him as a gust of wind shot over them. The men that had been advancing flew back and the fog disappated as the attacker lost focus. He pulled Tim to his feet and stumbled back to where Lois was standing. She was breathing heavy. 

"Thanks," Tim grumbled and rubbed his throat. 

"Are you okay?" Damian asked. 

"I will be fine. My magic doesn't work like Jon's." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes and as she let it out she calmed. He felt it, felt her magic settle. She offered him a small smile. "But that's why we made these," she said and handed them the vials they had made in the city. 

Damian took them then looked behind her. "Where is--" 

"Bruce told me not to stop until I got to you. He should be along soon," Lois said. Damian nodded. He had to focus. He threw the vial and heard a shout. 

When his father joined the fight it was with a yell and a vicious swing that cleared the way for Lois' next spell. He had never seen his father fight before. Not truly. He'd seen him spar, watched him taunt and joke with his men. Watch him growl and gripe in frustration against Clark, but he'd never seen this. He forgot where he was for a moment, lost in his power. Then his father looked to him and Damian jerked forward to dodge the sword coming at him. His father grabbed him and pulled him behind him as he swung his sword with the other. He did not waste another second before he was back in the fight. 

Then _she_ was there. 

He heard her laughter. 

_Gotham was burning._

She called out to him. His name sweet on her tongue.

_His mother's voice._

Her eyes locked with his and he looked back into the abyss. He stared and she blinked. 

"Damian!"

_Jon_.

There were a few men along the path, but they were too surprised to catch their blades, all of them having expected them to be dead in the courtroom. They followed the bond toward Damian's chambers and Jason just barely caught Jon around the middle and pulled him out of the way before a green lion fell back with a shout, Goliath pinning him to the ground with an angry snarl. 

Panic pulled Jon's stomach upside down and magic he hadn't called on balled in his hands as he shoved himself away from Jason and ran out into the hall. Everyone was there. Bruce was fighting back guards as his mother chanted a spell around him. Tiger and Biz were holding back a company while Tim and Damian were lost in the crowd. "Damian!" Jon shouted, and as soon as he said his name, dazzling green eyes found Jon's through the crowd of people, where Raven was floating above him. Eyes of the damned zeroing in on Jon with a snarl. 

The magic that ripped out of Jon wasn't something he called up. Anger exploded out of him and swelled through the hall, parting the crowd in two so that he had a straight shot to them. He whipped out his sword and charged at her, a shout that wasn't human shredding his throat as he tried to strike her. She blocked the first with a dagger, narrowly missing the second with the hiss of a curse that flung it back out of his hands. He didn't know what this was. He could feel light radiating out of him, could see the reflection of his eyes shining into hers. And for the smallest of seconds he could swear that she looked afraid-- but that snapped away in an instant. 

Damian felt something grow within him. It filled his chest and without a thought he let it flow through him. He wanted to help Jon, to throw another blade Raven's way while she was distracted. But her men would not be ignored. 

He fought, but nothing could touch him. His body was not his anymore. It belonged to the magic within him. There were three men on him at every turn and Damian was moving on pure instinct. He blocked a blow with his arm and pure light wrapped around it. The soldier looked startled for a moment before Damian ended him. He kept fighting until he felt a chill at his neck. A chill he'd known for too long. One he would never let invade him again. He pushed. The magic that had been flowing through the bond like a small stream now soared through them like a river after a rainstorm-

Until Raven's furry overwhelmed Jon and she managed to grab him by the neck, holding his sword hand just barely away from her face as she shoved him into the wall behind her. "You think that he'll still want you when he sees how weak you are?" She asked him, her voice layered on top of something deeper. Something sinister. 

"It…doesn't matter...if you kill me here." Jon hissed through her tightening grip. "You… won't _win_." He coughed and her grip tightened more, "Damian… Da-Damian is stronger than… both…" the air shoved out of him and his vision started to go black around the corners of his eyes. 

And right when Jon thought that this was really it, an overwhelming warmth streamed into him, like he had been cut open and it was flowing through his wounds. And her hand wasn't so tight anymore. Jon's hand tightened on her wrist as he noticed his hand wasn't the only one there, but Damian's was too. Nails ripping into her skin as he growled at her with his eyes shining like fire.

" _Release him,"_ he told her, his voice echoing through the hall around them.

Raven's face twisted with oncoming laughter and Damian growled as he swung the dagger at the face that haunted his dreams and had invaded his mind. He felt too many things happen at once. Their bond wrapped around him, his dagger collided with something hard, and a girl screamed. 

A shock of cold air blasted through the hallway, halting all of the fighting around them as they all knocked into the walls. Damian held onto Jon as Raven went flying across the room, cradling him to his chest as he struggled to get his breath back. 

And the hall was silent.

Damian touched Jon's chest where it was slowly rising and falling and let his head fall against his hair. He wanted to say it, but he knew it was too soon. They needed to be sure. He knew Jon could feel it too. Jon pushed up slowly and they warily walked to the slumped figure curled in the far corner of the hall. 

As they stepped closer her legs curled in and Jon pulled Damian closer to him, his hand out in a way he was beginning to recognize as his shield. She was touching her forehead when they walked around to look at her face. There was a wide gash, blood flowed freely down her forehead. But when she looked up at them, she was smiling. And as she pulled the remaining shard of the stone that had set in her head she started laughing. It was different from the laughter Damian had heard in his head. Different from the one he'd felt come from his own throat. It was... happy. 

"Raven?" he heard a raspy voice call out. Her laughter stopped, but her smile only brightened when the boy stumbled down the hall. He was bleeding, and his eyes were clouded with pain. But he walked past them without looking at them before falling to the floor and clinging to the Princess. 

"Gar," she whispered and kissed him. Then again. Her hands held his face as they embraced. Then she let out a sigh and pressed their foreheads together. "He is gone," she whispered. 

"What are you waiting for?" Jason growled, breaking the moment. Tim was holding him up as he pressed a hand to his side. One of his swords barely hung in his hand. "Kill her. Take your victory." 

Bright purple eyes darted up to them and Damian felt her fear in that moment. "It was not me."

"Lies," his father hissed. Damian did not look away. 

"Please. It was my father. It was not me." She looked at Damian, pleading with him. "You know I'm telling the truth. You've felt his mind. You've felt his power."

"Do not speak to him," Jon spat. 

"You know that I am telling the truth," she pleaded again anyway. Damian didn't want to believe her, but he did. The pressure that he'd felt in his own mind, in the hall as they fought. It was gone. The magic that remained was softer. Just as strong, but different. He looked back at Lois who was tending to Jason's wound even though he was grumbling that he didn't need help. Damian looked back to Raven. Was this a ploy? 

He felt something solid slide through the bond and knew Jon had made his decision. He could feel it, the hopelessness that he'd felt from the moment they realized Damian was not in control of his own body flooded into him. Damian would not stop him. He looked at Jon and squeezed his hand. 

"Your father is alive!" she said as Jon's hand raised. 

"What did you say?" Jon asked, his voice flat. 

"He's not dead." 

"Liar," Bruce hissed out from behind them. But even in a whisper his pain was evident. "You have been defeated. Accept your fate and keep your cruelty to yourself."

But Jon's shoulders had softened, the tension he had held seeped out of his eyes as his hand sank slowly back down. He knew something. Something that the rest of them didn't and Damian watched as a hope he had so scarcely seen since they had last been here shown bright in his eyes.

"He's alive?" Jon whispered. 

"Jon-" Bruce began to chide him, but Lois grabbed his arm before he could continue.

Raven grabbed at her opportunity to speak. "Yes!" She breathed raggedly and then attempted again. "Yes. I will take you to him. If you spare me." 

"Why should we believe you?" Damian asked. Her eyes met his. 

"Why would I lie?" 

Silence followed. 

"Take us to him," Lois said. Her voice was steady, but he could see in her eyes the turmoil. 

"Biz," Tim said. Damian looked back and Biz stepped forward. 

"If you are lying, then you have only prolonged your death." Damian watched as Biz wrapped the manacles around Raven's wrist and as he let go of her hands she dropped them to the ground. He saw her exhaustion. Another pair was produced and Raven stirred when Biz looked at Gar. 

"No. Please. If you cut him off from his magic he will die. Please," she looked up at Jon. "He was only protecting me." 

Jon shook his head and Biz put the metal away. Damian looked at the bag and wondered how many they had brought. He looked back at Tim, but he was focused on Jason. 

Gar helped Raven to her feet and she stumbled forward before she found her footing. She raised her head and walked ahead of them like the Princess that she was. He held onto Jon's hand and tried to keep his heart calm. He knew how much Jon wanted this to be true. Raven led them down. Then further down. Damian had only been down here once. They'd been playing hide and seek. Jon had cried until Damian had carried him out. He wondered if Jon remembered. He looked over and Jon was already looking back at him. 

"It was the first time I didn't feel the sun," Jon answered the question Damian hadn't asked. "I couldn't feel my magic." 

Damian looked back at the group following them, his father in the back. He had a dark look on his face. Damian turned back to Jon and squeezed his hand. 

Raven stopped. She pointed to a doorway with a silver gate. Damian looked at the gate as they stepped closer. He recognized the symbols, they were the same as the ones on the cuff. Why was this here? This was not new. The stones in the passageway were old, worn. The silver tarnished in spots. He felt the truth sink in. One of his ancestors had built it. Had built a cage specially to snuff out Kent magic. 

Tiger grabbed Raven and Biz took Gar's arms. He glanced over his shoulder and his father looked grim as they stepped up. Damian stopped Jon before he touched the bars. He did not trust them. He pulled open the cell door and Jon stepped in. 

"Pa?" 

Damian couldn't see past his father who had frozen in front of him. But he heard it. "Jon?" 

Damian felt Jon's relief, his joy, his sorrow, too many emotions flowed through him as he hugged his father. Lois took a couple steps forward, and then stopped. She looked back at his father who hadn't taken a full step inside the door. 

"What are you doing?" she asked. 

His dad took a step back and Damian put a hand on his back to stop him from backing out of the room. Bruce looked at him. Damian could see it. That same fear and panic that he'd had when he first saw Damian. "He's real," he said. 

His father looked back at the pair in front of him. Jon had not let go as he cried. "Go to him, you fool," Lois whispered. He saw the surprise in his father's eyes and knew that his own face reflected it too. But she did not need to repeat herself. His father took a few unsteady steps. Then a few more. Then Clark looked up and Jon moved away as his father collapsed into Clark's arms. He stepped into the cell and stepped next to Jon as they watched their fathers hold onto each other. Clark shifted and their temples pressed against each other. 

"It's okay," Clark whispered. 

"It's okay," his father scoffed in a held back sob. He shook his head and would have laughed if he didn't look so tormented. "You peeve me, Kent," his father said. Damian frowned. But then Clark huffed what sounded like a laugh. 

"I love you too," Clark replied quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I hope you are doing well. This chapter probably had the most heavy edits in the entire story so I really hope the flow is good and you guys enjoyed it. 
> 
> I wanted to add some cute stuff here but I'm sorry guys, it's been a really rough night. Please hug all your people and stay safe. And wear a mask because Covid is unfortunately still affecting people. Have a good night and we'll see you tomorrow!


	21. Chapter 21

It was strange to see their fathers together. Jon had spent his entire life watching them stand at least a foot apart, sharing smiles that always seemed a little forced-- and then suddenly they were completely different. Like someone had lit a torch in a dark room. Their smiles were free and wild, changing their faces into people who were almost unrecognizable. And they were connected all of the time. Hand in hand, arms tangling in each other like they were afraid if they let go that they would never come back together again. 

Jon kept his distance. It felt wrong to be avoiding his father when he had spent so long thinking that he would never see him again. But now that Clark was there, in front of him, all of the things that Jon had learned about him on their journey swelled in his mind, making it harder to see the rest of him. It was like he'd always had this picture of who his father was, but now that he was faced with the real thing, he didn't recognize him. 

He knew Damian was confused. He could feel the emotion almost like it was his own. He took Jon's hand as they walked back through the dark hall of the dungeons, falling further behind the group so that they could speak alone.

"It is nothing," Jon told Damian before he could ask.

"It does not feel like nothing," Damian whispered back at him just as his mother called for them to keep up. 

Jon nodded and Damian scowled. "Later," he promised, and even though he could tell Damian didn't like it, he let Jon pull him after the rest. 

There was no rush as they made their way back through the west wing of the castle. The carnage of their fight still splayed through the halls as the Gotham guard that Jon remembered from his childhood came out of hiding. His hand tightened in Damian's as they came in from the barracks, taking off their helmets as they lined the halls and watched them pass with wide eyed stares. The others stopped in the entrance of the courtroom, taking in the still frozen massacre in front of them. They shifted to make way for Jon and Damian and Jon kept his eyes forward as he felt his father's gaze on him. He was tired, his back ached and his throat was still sore from where Raven had held him. 

He kneeled and pressed his hand to the ground, taking in a deep breath before he told the ice to release and it exploded into water around the men inside. They fell limp to the damp floor, dead for the lack of air, and Jon stood again letting the water pool around his ankles as it rushed out of the open door where their family was walking terrified. 

"What now?" Jason asked when they all stayed silent. "What will you do with the girl?" Everyone's eyes shifted towards Biz who had Raven in his arms now that Gar had gone weak from the loss of blood.

"We should kill her," Tim said easily like he wasn't talking about someone's life. "Send her head and the beast's to her father as a warning of what is to come." 

"No." Jon turned to look at his father for the first time since their embrace. "She saved my life. Surely that is a debt that needs to be repaid."

"She tried to have you killed," Bruce insisted. 

"Her father tried to have me killed." Clark corrected. "The girl saved me… though I don't know why. But surely she deserves the chance to speak for herself."

"She needs...healing," Gar huffed, barely holding himself up on the wall. "Please. Help her. And she'll… tell you… everything!" He pleaded, his eyes turned to Damian. "Please!" He wobbled and Tiger caught him before he could fall. 

Jon turned to Damian. He was so conflicted that Jon felt his own steely edge starting to sway. He pulled Damian's hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss into his knuckles, feeling his tension ease ever so slightly. "We only have a few days to spare before we must head to the waterfront. We do not have much time," Jon reminded him. "But we _do_ have some." 

The crease in Damian's forehead eased slightly and he nodded. "Then we wait," he told them. "If she cannot stand trial by the end of the week…" He didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't have to. They knew what would come if Raven could not. 

His mother followed Biz and Gar out of the hall back down to the dungeon so that she could see to their wounds and relative comfort while Jon and Bruce set up a triage center in the courtroom. He watched Damian walk out the doors with Tim to gather dressings and supplies while Tiger went to look for soldiers who had not suffered from fatal wounds. Clark had wanted to go with him, but he had spent too much time in the cell. He was weak and malnourished and Bruce insisted he stay and let Jon look him over. Jason sat on the steps leading up to the throne, holding his side that was bleeding heavily enough that it had begun to slip through his fingers. 

"I do not need your magic," Jason told him stubbornly as he reached for him. "Stitch my wounds and send me with Tiger."

"Tim would kill both of us if I did that," Jon told him, almost smiling at the thought of it. "We could be done already if you would let me help you." Jason glared at him but eventually moved his hand and let Jon replace it with his own. 

It wasn't too deep and the cut was clean. The skin started weaving itself back together easily and after a moment Jon could see the strain in Jason's face start to ease.

"He's not how I imagined him." Jon looked up at him in question. "Your father," Jason explained and without thinking about it, Jon looked back over his shoulder as where his father was kneeling next to one of the corners where Jon and Bruce had pulled the bodies. It looked like he was praying over them. "I saw him once you know. When I was a boy, before I was stolen. He looked so big then. You would hear tales of his sword in every tavern if you were willing to listen. I thought he would be bigger."

"He used to be," Jon muttered, unable to make himself look up to meet Jason's eyes. "People change." And as he said it, Jon wondered if he was trying to convince Jason or himself of that fact. 

Once Jason was healed he left the hall to join Tiger in his search. Jon turned to look for his father and was surprised when he was standing next to him, a tired smile that he hadn't seen in ages on his face. "Hey kiddo," he told him softly. "It has been a while."

Jon opened his mouth, but when nothing came out he just nodded. He shook his head trying to rid himself of the horrible feeling in his stomach, but he couldn't. The weight strained to pull him down and make him petty. To ask his father if he really had done everything they said about him. Why he had done it. How he could have-- but he managed to hold it down. "Are you… hurt?" 

His father blinked, surprised at the question but then finally shook his head, eyes sad as he said, "No, I'm not hurt." 

"That is good." Jon nodded too vigorously. "I...I am glad," he continued lamely and then ran a hand over his face when he could feel everything start to crumble. He looked up to keep the tears from falling out of his eyes and heard his father whisper his name. But then Tiger was back with the first of the wounded and Jon had to leave him to go help. 

It was a long night. Jon's back and knees ached as he saw man after man, no matter the side they were on, and did what he could with what he had to see that they would, eventually, heal. His mother came to help when she was done tending to Raven, and the castle staff slowly came out of the woodwork now that the battle was won. No one celebrated, it still felt too fragile to do that. But voices were louder and more boisterous as the night started to brighten back into day. The staff made sure everyone was fed and watered, and the supplies that Jon and Lois needed were stocked. 

But Jon could feel their fear of him. None of them moved too close when they brought what he asked for, always, placing it down and running away before he could ask for something more. They were skeptical of the glow of his eyes and magic in his palm, and turned their praises to Damian for both of them. 

"They are afraid of me," Jon told him when Damian finally pulled him away from the wounded and walked with him down the halls to his chambers. The bodies of the dead had been removed and the wounded tended to, but the maids were still scrubbing the blood off the floors. 

Damian did not deny his truth, but instead he said, "They will learn not to be." And maybe they would. But whether Jon actually believed that or not, he was too tired to fight it. 

He let Damian lead him into the familiar rooms and set him down on the edge of the bed. He untied his tunic, whatever armor he had been in had long since been discarded after the battle was done. He pulled it over Jon's head and frowned when it came away tacky at his still bloody arm, the cut still slowly bleeding.

"You were wounded?" Damian demanded, annoyance that Jon hadn't said anything zapping him. 

"It isn't deep," he repeated what he'd told Jason. "And I forgot once it was all done. I don't have the energy to fix it now." 

Damian looked like he wanted to argue that but he bit his tongue and walked over to the vanity. There had been a basin of hot water placed there, before they had ever entered. Damian took the towel from beside it and dipped it in, ringing it out before he walked back and pressed it into the wound. Jon let out a sharp hiss as the heat stung at him. But it didn't last long and eventually he relaxed as Damian cleaned him of the battle. When he felt clean and Damian wrapped a cloth bandage around his arm with a bundle of Ivy's herbs, Jon caught him around the waist. Damian pushed at his shoulders for Jon to let him go, but it was weak and Jon knew that he didn't actually want that.

"Can you remember the last time we were here?"

Damian's eyes went cold, mouth pressing into a hard line as he pinched at Jon's cheek. "You were much smaller then," he grumbled unhappily. 

"You were so angry with me," Jon reminded him. "I hadn't told you about my marriage." 

And to Jon's surprise, Damian's eyes softened and his pinch turned into a caress. "I thought I was going to lose you. You had said when we were married you would no longer be mine."

"I was a fool," Jon whispered earnestly as he could. "If you had still wanted me, I would have been yours at any moment. No matter the circumstance."

A smile pricked at Damian's mouth. "Even now?" 

Jon smiled and stood, keeping his arms steady at Damian's waist and lifting him off the ground so he could turn him onto the bed. Jon crawled over him, trailing soft kisses up any part of Damian that he could reach. For once not in a rush to get anywhere. He kissed up his neck. Across his jaw. On each cheek and then finally the corner of his mouth before he held himself over Damian. Looking down at his perfect face. "If you would have me, I would take you to the willows today. This very moment. And then no one could ever lay claim to you again." He smiled before he finally kissed his lips. 

-

Damian kissed Jon's temple before he slid out of the bed. Jon hummed, but he could feel the exhaustion pull him back under. Damian smiled and got dressed. He was sore from their travel and the battle, but the pleasant buzz from the night before soothed it all. He wished that they had been able to enjoy themselves more before this. There had been no rush, no worry of being caught. It had been only them and Damian could feel everything that Jon felt. He wrapped that around himself as he walked the empty and chill halls. He knocked on his father's door and waited. His father answered the door. He looked better than he'd seen since they'd first left Gotham. He smiled and stepped back to let him in the room. The fire was dwindling, but the sunlight shined in from the balcony he had only seen open a few times in his life. He followed him out. Clark was sitting on the bench wrapped around the corner. He shifted slowly as Bruce sat down next to him. Damian watched the easy way they settled against each other. Like they fit and hadn't spent Damian's entire life separate. 

"Damian?" 

He tore his eyes away from the tip of the black mark peeking out of the edge of Clark's shirt. He'd seen the same on Jon's chest. 

"Marry us," Damian said as he met his father's eyes. 

"Damian," Bruce warned. He looked instantly tired. They had argued about this more than anything else. Damian did not wish to argue. He knelt and pressed his forehead to his knee. 

"Please. My heart will have no other." 

"We've talked about this. A King cannot-" 

"Then I do not want to be King." 

"Damian," his father snapped as Clark asked, "What?" 

He looked up. "I meant it. I do not wish to be King if Jon is not beside me." 

"Stop being foolish." 

"It is not foolish to want to hold onto my love!" he answered sharply. He lowered his head. He had not come here to argue with him again. "Please father," he said his voice cracking. "Let me marry the man I love. You claimed that you wished you could have changed the kingdom. If that is true, then change this for us now." He took a breath. "My King, please, I will ask for nothing more. I will question no orders. I will fight against our enemy without hesitation, but if we face our death I want to do so knowing that I am his and he is mine."

"Damian." He heard the wood creak and then a hand touched his shoulder. He looked up and his father was frowning at him as he kneeled in front of him. "This will be my last act as King." 

"What?" he said as he jerked back and shook his head. He looked at Clark who looked somber. "No. You're not- you're fine." 

He was tugged in, his breath coming in short quick gasps. "I am. That is not what I meant. Breathe." He clung to his father's shirt and tried to breathe. "You will take the throne after your wedding. I will step down. Gotham has no need for three Kings." He let out a shaky breath then another and then he was laughing and crying against his father's shoulder. 

"Jon," he whispered as he pulled back. He turned as Jon skid out onto the patio, pulled out of bed by the burst of emotion. Damian pushed to his feet and grabbed his hands as Jon reached for him. "Marry me. Now." 

"What?" 

"Say yes," he whispered. 

"Of course. You're serious?" Jon looked over to the king who nodded. His eyes flicked to Clark for a second before returning to him. "We're getting married."

They could not rush down to the willows like they wished. There was a ceremony that his father insisted upon. The marriage of his son, the future king, called for more circumstance than hurried vows. 

Damian sat with his father. He listened to him talk through the ceremony and offered changes to suit them better. His father hesitated for a moment before nodding and continuing. 

"Jon will need a crown," his father said after they'd gone through the entire ceremony. "I have something I wish to give you. It will not suit him, but you may find use of it." He watched as his father stood and walked to a large chest in the corner of his room. He pulled out a small box and touched the top before sitting next to him. "My father had my mother's crown destroyed rather than have her wear it. So I had this made for your mother." He opened the box and handed it to him. Damian touched the stone set in the crown and picked it up carefully. It looked like the crown that would soon be his, its lines more delicate and softer. "We will need more metal," his father commented as Damian placed the crown back in the box. 

"I know where to get it from," Damian replied. 

Clark answered the door when he went down to the Kents' to find Jon. He offered him a lopsided smile and stepped aside. Jon jumped to his feet when he saw him. 

"Is it time?" 

"Not yet. I have one thing I must finish. I need your dagger," he said. 

"What?" Jon asked, his hand sliding to the sheath tied at his hip. "Why?" 

"I wish it to be a surprise. I promise I will return it to you." Jon looked at him before handing it over. Damian took it carefully and smiled. "The dressers should be here soon. I must hurry," Damian said. He darted forward to kiss Jon before running. Lois called out for him to be careful as he stumbled out of the house. 

-

Damian adjusted the catch tied too tightly at his neck as he stood next to his father in the entryway to the castle. They would be walking down to the willows soon. His father had complained about the location, but had given in when Damian told him of their promise. 

"You look like a fool," Tim told him. Damian frowned at him. Tim was dressed in the same clothes that he'd been wearing since they first met them, but they had been washed. When his father had told him that citizens of Gotham must be present his heart had sunk. He had wished for it to be private, small. Their families alone around them. He could tolerate the ceremony, but this was for them alone. But only required two, and it was easy to ask Tim and Jason to attend. They had looked amused when he'd asked. 

"It is _tradition_ ," he replied with a pointed look. "I could insist you wear it as well." Tim shook his head and shifted his hand on the box that he was carrying. His father had stared at Jason for a long time before he let him leave with the crown that had belonged to Gotham's King's for generations. 

"It's time," his father said and pushed open the door. The walk to the willows was long and the sun was quickly setting when they reached the small space that was lit with torches. Jon stood beneath it in the same clothes that Damian wore. He wanted to go to him, but he stood across from him as his father stopped at the base of the tree. He could feel his smile pull at his cheeks as he looked at Jon. 

"We have come to honor the bond between two souls," his father said as he looked between them. Damian looked at Jon as his father continued. The light from the torches flickered in his eyes as they darted between his father and Damian. He could not believe that this was actually happening. But it must have been because in his dreams his neck didn't itch from the sweat gathering in the fabric and the locusts in the trees were not croaking at them. 

"Damian," his father said. He felt the surprise from both Lois and Clark as he turned to his father. He turned and Tim handed him the small box. He got down on one knee and looked up at Jon as he took his hand. 

"I pledge my life and my love to you. I will be forever faithful. I will never cause you harm. I will honor and cherish you above all others. My strength is your strength. My family is your family. My kingdom is your kingdom."

"Jon," Bruce said softly. Jon tore his eyes away from Damian and turned to take the crown from the box Jason was holding. 

Damian lowered his head as Jon's trembling hands placed the crown on his head. He spoke with the force of his station as he finished his vow. "The things which I have here before promised, I will perform and keep until the end of my days." 

Damian stood and felt the weight of the crown settle on his shoulders. Jon kneeled and Damian smiled down as he took his hand and rubbed instinctively over the bare skin where his ring had sat until moments before. Jon's voice was thick as he spoke. 

"I pledge my life and my love to you. I will be forever faithful. I will never cause you harm. I will honor and cherish you above all others. Your strength is my strength. Your family is my family." Jon hesitated and Damian squeezed his fingers. "Your Kingdom is my Kingdom." 

Damian did not wish to let go of Jon's hand, but he did as he pulled the new crown from the case. His mother's crown sat at its heart, the metal from the dagger filled in the rest. Jon stared at it for a moment before his head dropped. Damian placed the crown on his head and touched his hair. Jon's voice was steady as he swore. "The things which I have here before promised, I will perform and keep until the end of my days." 

Damian held his hand to Jon and he stood. His father had seemed exasperated at his insistence that they exchange rings. But he knew that it was important to Jon. He looked back at Jason who was holding out a small box and took his own from Tim before turning back to Jon. 

"I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine," he said as he slid the ring, a mirror of his own onto Jon's finger. Jon repeated the same and slid Damian's ring back where it belonged. He held onto Jon's hand as they turned back to his father. 

"Now do I bind these two hearts together. May they never part." His father looked between them. "So it is decreed that Jonathan and Damian are now bound together in matrimony. With these final words, I pass my reign as King on to my son and his husband. Pride and glory to Gotham." 

"Pride and Glory," Damian repeated. He heard the ghost of Jon's voice echo him. He looked back at Jon and smiled before throwing himself into his arms. Jon let out a squeak before kissing him soundly and pulling him even tighter against him. When Jon let him go Damian looked up and Jon's eyes were glowing. Jon's finger brushed his temple and he knew his own were too. 

"Praise be to the gods," Lois called. A moment later Clark repeated the sentiment. Damian felt how happy Jon was and didn't know how his chest could contain them both as he smiled at him in the dim light beneath the willows. 

Jon held Damian back as the others started back to the palace. The light was starting to wane and the night buzzed with a soothing breeze, and Jon needed but a moment alone with Damian. His husband. His King.

"It feels as though all of this is a dream," Jon told him when he could finally manage a moment of distance between them even though he still had Damian pressed into the great tree. "Like we fell asleep in the mountains and never woke up."

"If only that were true." Damian sighed, cupping Jon's face in his hand. "We could spend the rest of our days suspended in this moment. Instead we hold a trial and a girls life in our hands, war impending on our borders."

"Are you afraid?" Jon asked him softly, turning his mouth into Damian's palm and kissing it. 

Damian smiled and brushed a stay curl behind Jon's ear from where it had escaped from the tie at the base of his skull. His mother had fussed over it for nearly the whole day, insisting Jon let her cut it, but he knew now he had made the right choice, Damian liked it longer. "Yes, I am afraid," he admitted after a moment. "But not for myself." 

Jon's eyes went soft and he pulled Damian back into him. "You feel cold," Jon muttered into the side of his head. 

"Warm me?" He breathed. Jon took his hand in answer and pulled Damian back toward the town. They didn't head back to the palace, they knew that the halls would be full and the town would be there feasting in celebration of their new kings. Bruce had wanted them to show face, but Jon had spent the afternoon with his parents setting up their house for them. Jon's parents had moved into rooms at the castle. Damian seemed surprised when they took the turn to the outskirts of town at the fork in the path but he didn't say anything. The sky was a deep blue when they reached the house, the windows lit with a flicker of low flames from the candles they had lit before heading to the willows. He looked over at Damian who was biting back a smile as he looked at the small home. A home he had grown up in just as much as Jon had, theirs for the evening, for once completely safe and alone. 

Jon led him forward and opened the door. Damian blinked down at the broom that was laying across the entryway. "To sweep away impurities," Jon told him a little shyly. But Damian's smile grew as they stepped over the broom together. 

Candles lined every surface, creating a heady feeling as the scent of lavender and honeysuckle filled their heads. On the table there was a grinding stone already lain with herbs, and a simple silver cup filled with mead.

"What is all of this?" Damian asked softly, as though if he spoke louder it would break whatever magic he could feel at work here. 

Jon's cheeks felt hot. "We did your ceremony. But my people have their own. I thought… if you like, we could do this as well? But we do not have-" Damian kissed him before he could finish. 

"Yes, I would like that," he whispered. And Jon wasn't sure in that moment if he could ever love someone as much as he loved Damian. If anyone could ever love anyone in this way other than the two of them. 

He followed Jon to the table and watched as he pummeled the herbs together, grinding them down into a fine powder. "These herbs represent the four elements," he told Damian as he sprinkled them in a circle around the glass. He whispered to them and they caught a fast fire before it went out, leaving a ring around the cup on the table, a pleasant aroma smoking up around them. "We light them as a gift to the Gods, calling them to watch over our union." Damian's eyes glistened in a thirst for knowledge as he watched Jon whined out to the thin corded rope that was set next to him. He held out his hand for Damian who gave his to him unflinchingly. "This next part is called the fastening," he explained. "The fastening is a vow I make to you before the gods that I will always be yours. My life forever in your hands. If you want it."

"I do," Damian said without question and Jon beamed at him as he held his palm flat against Damian's. 

He wound the cord around their hands in an intricate pattern. His mother had shown him carefully step by step that morning. They had spent hours going over every little bit until he had it perfect, but Jon couldn't stop his hands from shaking then. And now, with Damian's hand warm and steady against him, he was calm.

" _Now we are bound to one another,_ " he began, magic floating around them. Damian's eyes lit like a green flame. " _With a bond not easy to break. We take this time of binding to grow wisdom and love. To make our marriage a strong one. And insure our love will last in this life and beyond._ " Jon tied the knot carefully as he could with one hand and as soon as it was done he felt a little jolt of energy surge between them. Damian let out a laugh of surprise and Jon bit down on his lip, a heavy breath between them. 

He nodded for Damian to put his free hand on the glass and they lifted it together. "This is the last part," he breathed, not knowing why he was so breathless all of a sudden. Like this would really make it real when the King had already made it so. "Repeat after me. And then we drink." Damian nodded. Jon cleared his throat. " _I take you in my heart_ ,"

"I take you in my heart." Damian echoed. 

" _At the rising of the moon, and the setting of the stars."_

"At the rising of the moon and the setting of the stars."

" _To love and honor through all the may come."_

"To love and honor through all that may come."

" _Through all our lives, in all our lives."_

"Through all our lives in all our lives."

" _May we be reborn, that we may meet and know._ "

"May we be reborn, that we meet and know."

Jon flexed his hand against Damian's, his heart so full he felt like he could burst. His mother had warned him of the severity of the vows and that it was more than just words. But Jon _knew._ He knew that whatever life he was in, whatever place he had to start anew-- he would look for Damian. And he would never stop until he found him. " _And love again,_ " he said, his voice thick with his emotions. " _And remember._ "

"And love again, and remember," Damian finished, his eyes wet and still shining as the thread of their bond ignited like a flower between them. 

Jon lifted the cup to Damian's mouth and he took a drink. Then Damian did the same for Jon. It tasted both sweet and bitter, but the warmth of it ran down his throat and bloomed in his chest. They put the glass back down in the circle and Jon stepped around the table to meet Damian on the other side. He could feel Damian's gaze on his face as he carefully pulled the knot on the cord and unwrapped their hands. Damian's slid up Jon's arm and up over his shoulders. Jon shivered as Damian's hands ran up his hair. He pulled out the ribbon tying it back and ran his fingers through his curls until they laid in an unruly mane around his face. His fingers stopped when they hit the metal of his crown.

"It suits you," Damian said softly.

Jon smiled and shook his head. "It suits you better. And for that, I will gladly wear mine." Damian pinched him and Jon grinned before he stepped even closer. He grabbed Damian by the back of his legs and pulled him up so that he was warped around his waist and shoulders. They kissed while he worked at the latchings of Damian's jacket until it fell easily off his shoulders and pooled on the floor. Jon carried him carefully up the narrow staircase to the one room as the very top that was Jon's and pushed the door easily open. Damian pulled back just enough to notice the basket of sunflowers on the desk, a few candles the only light in the room. He slid down Jon's chest as and back to the ground before he started pulling at Jon's jacket. His touch was less patient than Jon's hand been, a few clasps breaking in the process before it eventually ended up on the floor. 

Jon pulled at the strings in Damian's shirt before he dragged it over his head, knocking his crown a little askew as it joined Jon's jacket on the floor. Jon kissed him again, walking him backwards to the bed before he pushed him down and kneeled before him. Damian tugged at the fabric still on his shoulders, fire lit in his eyes-- but Jon took his time. He unlaced Damian's boots and pulled them free, setting them carefully to the side of the bed. Then he dragged off each of his socks, planting a kiss in the curve of both feet. He sat forward on his knees and undid his belt carefully, their eyes met as time stopped between them and they both silently agreed to make it last as long as they could. 

He draped the belt over Damian's boots and Damian's hand grabbed his chin gently pulling him back so that Damian could kiss him again. He kissed him once. Twice. And then pulled back and carefully pulled Jon's crown off of his head, placing it on the desk next to the flowers. He pulled off his own and set it next to that and then shifted back to where he had been in front of Jon. He ran a hand through Jon's hair and smiled before doing it again with both hands. And it felt so good that Jon's eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted just before Damian pulled him up off of the floor. 

Jon climbed over him, following where Damian led him with his mouth and hands. Damian pulled at the bottom of Jon's shirt until it came up and pulled it slowly over his head, breaking the moment enough that they just looked at each other. Damian's hair was mussed up. He must have cut it that morning because the sides of his head were clean and it felt soft when Jon ran his fingers over it. He smiled, the sun stones in his ring catching the light from the candles and pulled Damian back to him. He was a little clumsier with his own boots, but managed to kick them off of the bed after what felt like forever had passed, but Damian didn't seem to mind. His tongue caressed his slowly, filling every space Jon had never realized was empty. He moaned pathetically with his need for his husband and couldn't wait anymore. He slipped his hand into Damian's pants and rubbed his palm against him. 

Damian gasped and Jon pushed his palm down again, rubbing more firmly until he was gripping at his shoulders. "Please." He panted and Jon nodded. He kissed his neck and his shoulder and then all the way down his chest and stomach until his mouth came to the hem of his trousers and he pulled them down. He kissed Damian's hip before he pulled back and licked his lips, an idea popping into his head. He continued his assault down to the back of Damian's knee watching him riggle around until Jon knew he couldn't take it anymore. He caressed Damian's ass, letting his thumb slide between them and against the pucker there. Damian jolted and Jon kissed the back of his knee again before he hooked it over his shoulder and pulled Damian's ass off the bed. 

He let out a noise of surprise, but let Jon move him, his eyes growing big and his cheeks turning pink when Jon's mouth moved towards his ass as his hands spread him open. He let out a sharp noise when Jon's tongue slid between his cheeks and grabbed at the sheets, dick as hard as a rock twitching against Jon's nose and cheek. He licked again and nuzzled into it and Damian was suddenly up on his elbows watching Jon with his mouth hanging open, one hand grasping his hair. 

He held Jon back for a moment, breathing ragged and hot until he managed to bite down on his lip and loosen his grip. Jon licked again and Damian let go of him, his head falling back as wet sounds dripped through his fingers. Jon worked Damian open slowly, grinding against the matrices as his head became heavy and hot just from the sound he was making. He pushed his tongue into Damian and then his finger and another after that. He stretched him open and gently and lovingly as he could until Damian could barely breathe and was dragging Jon back up to him. 

He fumbled with Jon's pants, shoving them down so that he could get his hands on him. Damian took the bottle of oils that was next to the bed and poured it over his hand before he took Jon. A spike of pleasure jolted up Jon's spine, his eyes squeezed shut for a second so that he could bring himself down enough that he could last. When he opened his eyes again, Damian's were glowing. He smiled at him and took Jon's face in his hand. "Something wrong, _husband_?" He whispered into his lips. Jon just moaned and licked into his mouth. 

Jon slid his hand over himself until his finger were slick and pushed two back into Damian until he was panting into his mouth. "Ready?" Jon asked and Damian nodded, words escaping him. Jon kissed his shoulder and then his neck as he lined up with him and slid in. And it felt different than it had before. It was every bit as amazing as it always was, but there was something else. Something pulling them. Like the knot Jon had tied that night had never been undone. 

Magic spilled out around them, blowing out every candle as they came down, heavy breathing the only sound between them. They stayed silent until the glow dissipated and the shine that reflected in Damian's eyes was from the moon. Jon pulled out of him and slumped down beside him on the bed as he caught his breath.

"You are the most incredible person I have ever met," he breathed.

"Tt."

"It's true." Jon sighed looking over at him. "You always have been. Ever since we were little. I used to think that I was jealous of you because you were so smart and handsome. Tall," he teased and Damian glared at him when he grinned. "But I think I always knew… even before we…" he trailed off with a shy smile. "I just wanted you to be mine."

Damian rolled so that he was leaning over him. He leaned down and kissed him sweetly and when he pulled back he smiled. The smile that was only Jon's. "And now I am." 

Jon grinned and kissed him again. "And now you are."


	22. Chapter 22

Damian woke to Jon's fingers running through his hair. Jon stopped when he noticed that he'd woken, but went back to it. He knew Jon had been watching him sleep, worrying over something. This stronger bond was frustrating. He could feel every emotion that flitted through Jon, but he did not know what caused them. He wished to bar all of the bad emotions from Jon. Stand guard and swat away any attackers on the sunshine that was Jon's happiness. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asked because he knew that would be impossible. 

"All that we've done," Jon replied. "And all that still lies ahead." 

"Can we enjoy this for a moment longer?" he asked and pulled Jon's hand to him. He placed a kiss on his palm. He felt the worry fade. Jon's eyes closed as Damian kissed his wrist. He turned his hand over and pressed his lips to the ring. He looked up at Jon and felt the overwhelming pull of emotion in his chest. He smiled and when Jon yanked him in a laugh escaped. 

-

Damian looked around the room as he sat next to Jon who was breathing heavy. The mess from the night before was even more scattered. A chair was overturned and a bottle was slowly dripping down the side of the table. He wiped his hair back and turned to lean on his arm as he looked down at Jon. 

"Do you think that this is going to happen every time we have sex?" he asked and waved at the room around them. They weren't sitting at the center of a world of destruction like they had been back at Constantine's but it was close. 

"I don't know. Maybe you should ask your dad," Jon said with a poke at his chest. Damian rolled his eyes and drew his finger over the mark on Jon's chest. 

"Your father would know more than mine," Damian replied. "He has this mark too, though his looks like it's burnt black." He let that sit between them. And though he didn't say it, he could feel Jon working up to something. 

"I saw him," Jon said finally, watching the base of Damian's neck instead of his face. "When I was dead. I thought that I had just imagined it, but it had to have been him, really him." Jon pushed Damian's hand flat against the mark and held it there. He could feel the beat of Jon's heart and the pulse of his magic. "I think he transferred his magic to me." 

"You didn't tell me this," Damian muttered. 

Jon frowned. "There was no time. You weren't yourself and then we were just trying to get here." Damian felt hurt radiate in his chest. "I didn't want him to be alive," Jon whispered. 

"What?" 

"When my dad died. He was a great man. He protected his people and he loved my mom." Jon looked at him. His heart ached and Damian knew it was Jon's pain. "But he wasn't really that man at all. He killed our people. He-" Damian covered his mouth and leaned close. Jon's eyes focused on him. 

"He was not perfect. He was not what you thought he was, but is it not better that he is alive so you may learn about the man he truly is?" He tilted his head. Jon's eyes had not yet met his. "If you cannot be glad that he is alive, then I will be glad for you." Jon smiled, though it was still sad and curled his finger to get him to move up so he could kiss him. 

-

Damian sat in his father's throne with his father's cloak upon his shoulders and felt his father's gaze on him. He looked over to where he was sitting and sat up straight when he gave him an all too familiar look. Jon sat beside him in what had once been Damian's throne. They would build them side by side when they returned, but for now this was what they had. Clark opened the doors and the other members of the court slowly walked in. Each one offered their congratulations to Damian for his coronation. There were a few that addressed them both and only one that wished Jon the best. By the time they had all gone he was already tired. He looked over to Jon and offered him his hand. Jon took it and Damian heard the clamor when his ring caught the light and there was no denying the rumor that Damian had married. When he turned back to face the group an uproar of questions and shouts for an explanation broke out. Damian raised his hand and the group quieted, though he felt that it took longer than it would if it were his father. 

"We will address your concerns, but you must voice them one at a time." 

The first couple were about Jon, which Damian answered with a false smile and a sharp tongue. The next man looked like he wanted to ask a similar question, but decided against it when Damian's eyes fell on him. He would tolerate no more questions over his decision to marry Jon.

"What of the witch?" the man asked instead. 

"What of her?" he asked. There were too many possible questions he could be asking. 

"I heard that she was alive." 

"That her wounds were being treated," another voice called out. 

"She is alive, and she is being treated," he confirmed. He had to fight his instinct to look to Jon when the group started grumbling amongst themselves. Then he heard it, a hiss carrying ' _magic'_ through the group. 

He stood up. The voices stopped and they all turned to look at him. He knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to forbid them from speaking ill of magic. He wanted to lecture them on their false beliefs. But this was not the time. Not when they could see it as support of their enemy and not his husband and all of the people he represented. 

"Dismissed. We will find council amongst ourselves."

The door shut and he turned to look at Jon. "They aren't wrong," Jon said. 

"You want to execute her? Condemn all of magic while we do? Because that is how the people will see it. Another Wayne destroying magic out of fear." 

"She is evil," Jon said after a beat. 

"Magic is evil." 

Jon stopped and stared at him like he could not believe what Damian had said. 

"She is magic. She is evil. So magic is evil." He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I know that it is not. I know that magic is like metal. It can be forged to be a shield or a sword. The sword has no ill will against those it strikes down. I know this, but I do not know how to convince our people of this fact."

"And keeping her alive would do that?" Jon asked. 

"I don't know," he replied. "I don't know what to do. But I cannot condemn her for what she was forced to do. There is blood on my hands as on hers." 

"Damian," Jon said softly and Damian looked up at him. "It was not your fault." Jon pulled him in, tucked him against his chest. He breathed in the rich scent of the Kent house. His mind drifted back to the sands of the desert. Tim sitting and listening to the men as they stated their case. 

"I have an idea," Damian said. "One that might show our people not all magic is to be feared." 

-

Damian and Jon stood in front of the throne. It succeeded in giving the air of equality to the men sitting at the sides of the room. But in truth it was because Jon did not trust the woman being guided through the doors between Tiger and Biz. 

"Princess of Azarath, you stand before us after attempting to overthrow our reign. What do you say to this accusation?" 

Raven looked at Damian and then to Jon. She knew that it was him that she had to convince. "I acknowledge the accusation, but my actions were not my own. But forced upon me by my father the King of Azarath."

"How do we know that is the truth?" Jon asked. Raven looked down for a moment then back up. 

"I have no way to prove this to you. Only my word that it is so." 

"You are aware that you face death for your actions?" Damian asked. She nodded, her shoulders shifting under the weight of his words. "If we were to set you free, where would you go?" Damian ignored the whispers. 

"I would travel as far away as I could so that I would never again be under his control."

"The King and your father?" he asked. She nodded. "What if we could offer you protection from him?" 

"I would be even more in your debt. For you both spared my life and saved me from him. I would not know where to begin to repay such an act." 

"Would you fight with us against him?" Jon asked. Damian's eyes flicked to him for a moment, surprised that he was the one suggesting it. 

"If that is what you wished." She looked up at them, and he knew that she could feel the tension of the room. The distrust and the fear. "I swear upon the blood in my veins that I will fight for your glory." Jon stepped forward when she bit her finger and drew a circle on the ground. He could feel the disbelief as she put her hand in the circle and looked up at him. Her magic was bound, but Damian knew that it meant something to Jon that she would swear to them. 

"We accept your offer of allegiance," Damian said. "Should you prove your loyalty in battle, you will return a child of Gotham, forever protected by the warmth of the sun."

"Should you betray us, you would lose your magic," Jon said. 

She nodded. Jon stepped forward and Damian followed. A shield flowed around them as they grew closer. Raven did not look startled, though the rest of the room was. Jon motioned to Biz and he removed the band on her wrist. She looked up at Jon. Her eyes slid black as she uttered her words of magic and once again put her hand back in the circle of her blood. Damian gasped. He felt something, like his tie to Goliath. 

But it was not his. It was Jon's. She had tied herself to him. The band was returned to her wrist and the shield faded around them. 

"The Princess has sworn her loyalty to the throne," Damian announced. He took Jon's hand as they returned to the throne. They turned back to their court and together decreed, "So it is."

"Return her to her cell," Jon said after they waited for the room's reaction. All of them seemed too shocked by Jon's easy display of magic to process anything more. Biz and Tiger walked her back out of the room. And Damian tugged Jon. They walked to the side and into his father's study. As soon as the door shut, Damian took Jon's face in his hands. 

"What was that?" he asked as his hands moved over him trying to make sure that he was not harmed. He rested his head on the mark on his chest when Jon chuckled and wrapped his arms around him. 

"If she betrays her path, her magic will be passed to the betrayed." 

"You," Damian offered.

Jon nodded. "It is ancient magic." 

"I did not know anyone still knew the words," Clark said as he walked in the door behind Bruce. Damian felt Jon tense in his arms and he knew it was not just from being caught in an embrace. 

They spent the rest of the day preparing for their trip back to Tameran. They sat with court in the afternoon and went over their plans for Gotham in their absence. Jon had thought for a moment that they were completely opposed to the idea of leaving Tim and Jason in charge in their stead-- but when they agreed eagerly when Damian reiterated, Jon saw that they were only opposed to him. 

His mood was sour when court adjourned and Damian went with his father to see to the barracks. Jon moved to head back to the Kent house to go through the herbs and supplies his mother would need to get from Ms. Ivy on her way to join them at the front. It didn't help that the entire town seemed to be watching him, the farmer boy they had once waved at in welcome and love now turned a royal mage. He kept his eyes on the path, trying not to let his new clothes feel like a disguise as he made it out of town. He had just been starting to relax when a hand clapped onto his shoulder and his father was there smiling at him like he always had been before. Only now instead of looking up, they were eye to eye. 

"Thought you might like some company," he said warmly.

Jon offered him what he could of a smile and nodded, "Sure." 

They were quiet as they walked away from the wall around town, over the rolling hill that usually hid the sunflowers from view. But the patch was still just roots and dirt. They stopped in front of it, the marks they had spent the evening carving into the ground had been worn away by the weather. It felt like a person had died here. The way that his mother had mourned it imprinted on his memory of the patch forever. A patch of flowers that had been present his entire life. And Jon was suddenly very aware of his father standing next to him. The man that had planted those flowers. Nurtured them like he had him, raising Jon to protect and love and be respectful of both humans and magic in a way that he had not. 

In many ways, the patch was his father. What had made it beautiful, a patch of hope and life, had been stripped away and all that was left was the root of it all and the man at the center. 

"Do you regret it?" Jon asked him softly as the sun started to shift low across the horizon. "The things you did?" 

Clark was quiet for long enough that the light shown pink on his face when he answered, expression almost serene-- the most at peace that Jon had ever seen him. "Yes… and no," he told Jon heavily. He looked over at his son and smiled sadly before he walked forward to the gate of the patch and stepped over it. Jon followed him, leaning against the fence that he himself had made. "I regret that I had to take a stand against our people, and I have repented for my actions for over half of my life. I made a safe haven for them. I protected them. And I also slaughter them. The ones that I was not wholly responsible for still feel like marks on my flesh. But I did so for my kingdom."

"How can you say that?" Jon demanded of him. Clark looked up from where he was leaning in the soil. "You lied. You lied to everyone." Anger swelled in his chest and Jon had to bite back against it when he felt Damian's concern prickle at him, "You've told me all my life that we are Kents, and how we needed to live up to that name. A name of hope and strength. But you _used_ our name to take apart the world!"

"As you would have," Clark said simply. Frustratingly calm when Jon was barely holding himself back. "If Damian had asked you to fight with him, you would have done the same-- and I'm not saying this to anger you, Jon. I'm only stating facts. Because I _know_ what it is like to love a king." Jon didn't have anything to say back to that so Clark continued, "I know what I did, Jon. I will live with that the rest of my life. But my actions have helped shape the world we are in now, and regardless of what I have done to make it so-- we are this close-" He held his fingers just barely apart. "-to a _true_ peace. A peace our fathers before us only ever dreamed of. And my son helped bring us here." He smiled at Jon with so much pride that Jon's throat felt raw and wet. "So yes, I regret my actions. But I do not wish to change them. Even if I am a villain in this new world-- it is still the _new_ world." He traced a rune in the soil, the same spirals that Jon had taught the soldiers of Tameran that meant _new life_. 

Jon stepped over the fence and approached his father, offering his hand to him and pulling him back to his feet. Jon hugged him tight and, after a moment of surprise, Clark hugged him hard in return.

"I don't know how to make them respect me," Jon muttered now that they were close, the rest of his frustrations leaking out of him. "They look at me like I'm a monster."

Clark chuckled. "The men of course have superficial qualms," he told him. "You need only to prove yourself in battle. Once there are songs of your greatness, no one will question your worth." Jon smiled despite himself and his father released him, returning it in spades. "Besides, they are so afraid of Damian I'm not sure anyone would dare deny you if truly pressed."

Pride bubbled up in Jon's chest. "They should be afraid. He is very strong."

"As are you," Clark reminded him and pinched his cheek. "Come, you mother needs our list."

-

Jon was happy to be out of his new finery and back in his traveling cloak the next morning. He had been ready to step out and prepare the horses, but blinked when he realized there were already people doing it for them. The stable hand smiled at Jon when he led his horse over to him and bowed as he backed off, bags already secured, the Gotham Crest resting on her armor. 

Tim and Jason came with them to the edge of town, stopping with Jon, Damian, and their fathers at the Kents' home. They watched the soldiers rode forward after Tiger and Biz who had Raven and Gar in tow. Tim looked around at the soil dissatisfied and turned back to them, eyebrows set in his near constant frown.

"So there are no more sunflowers to protect Gotham," he muttered coolly. "So fortunate to have it left defenseless in our hands." 

Damian looked like he wanted to whip back at him, but Jon chuckled and stepped off of his steed. He stood next to Tim and offered him his hand. Tim looked at it in distrust for a moment and turned to Jason who shrugged though he looked unhappy about it. Tim gave Jon his hand and let him help him off his mount before he led him over to the empty patch. He kneeled, making Tim follow him down and drew a spiral in the soil before he looked up at the sky. It was a cloudless sunny day, rare for Gotham. And Jon pulled at the warmth around him and sent it into the ground.

"Put your hand here," he told Tim. 

He frowned in suspicion. "Why?"

Jon smiled at him, "So you can feel it."

Tim leaned forward very slowly and pressed his hand into the ground. Jon sent down a pulse and the pulse shot right back against Tim's palms. He ripped his hand back to his chest and jumped to his feet. "What was that?" He demanded, eyes alight with anticipation and if Jon was reading him correctly, excitement. 

He felt his eyes shine and looked over to Damian to see his were lit as well. "New magic," he told him simply. Like he had with Damian all that time ago when he turned the soil under their feet at the battle front. Jon shoved his fingers into the soil and watched it turn until all at once Sunflowers shot up around them, tall enough to cast a shadow over them. He heard a few shouts from the men, Jason yelling in surprise as Jon's father and Damian chuckled. And when Jon looked back up, Tim was beaming. 

Jon didn't think he had ever seen Tim smile before. But when he stood up, there was no denying that it as he devoured the flowers around them. "Your kingdom will be in one piece when you return," Tim assured him, eyes alight when they turned back to him. "Do your best not to die," he told him firmly, and weirdly it was the nicest thing that Jon had gotten from him yet. 

Jon shook his hand and they walked back through the flowers. And it was nice to watch them fade in the distance as they once again rode away from their home. 

-

Damian watched Jon slide from his horse to assist Tiger move a fallen log from their path. It felt like it had been a lifetime since they last rode through these hills. They were not the boys that they had been. Jon's eyes met his as he walked back and he smiled. 

They stopped as the sun began to set. Part of Damian wished to stop for the night, but he knew there would be no moon rising on this night and their time was quickly running out. The blood moon would rise in three days and the waters that had kept Azarath at bay would be all but gone. 

Jon led the horses to water and Clark followed him as the others rested and prepared a small fire. Tiger had insisted he make dinner. He looked around when he realized that his father was not with the others. It did not take long to find him, his silhouette stood out on the edge of the cliff. 

"Father?" 

Bruce turned to look at him as he approached. He was surprised to see that his eyes were alert as they took him in. When they had been at the Hidden City, he had seen him stop mid sentence and stare into space as if someone had spoken. When he called out to him, he went back to the discussion as if nothing had happened. Lois had told him that it happened often. There had been days when nothing roused him. A few times during their journey to Gotham he had seen the distance of his father's mind. But he had not seen it since Clark was returned to them. 

"I was enjoying the sunset. There are none like the ones you see in the Tamaran mountains." Damian stood next to him and watched the sky twist and change as the sun continued its descent. "The first time I ever saw one I was still a boy. I had never seen something so beautiful. I dreamt of its colors that night and wished to see its beauty once again." The sky shifted, its oranges and greens darkening into crimson. "That next morning I led my men into battle for the first time. I did not think the sunset was as beautiful that night as Clark dragged me from the mud." 

"You have never spoken of your battles with Tameran."

"I wish that I did not have to remember them." Damian did not know how to respond to the flatness of his father's voice. He had asked only a few times for the stories beyond the accounts and each time he had been ignored. He looked back to the group around the fire. Damian watched Jon talking with Tiger before looking back at the sky. His stomach shifted with unease. "You aren't ready. You won't be able to lead these men. You're too young. You won't win." 

Damian jerked and his father pat his shoulder. "I know your thoughts. They were the same that I had. I was a child, younger than my men's own sons. But my father had charged me with the protection of our people." He squeezed his arm. "You have studied our histories. You've rewritten battle plans. I have seen you solve problems that had plagued my thoughts for years. You know what we need to do." 

"It is not the same. I can move a battalion into an area on a map and document the loss of force, but I do not know them. I have not broken bread with them. They are not faces and names. They are tallies on a sheet."

"You will lose people. Such is war, but you must not hesitate. You owe it to the men. They will follow you. You _must_ lead." 

"Will you help me?" 

Bruce smiled and his arm slipped over his shoulder as he tugged him against him. "You are my son. Of course I will help you. Though I doubt you will need it." 

"Bruce," Clark called. "You two should come eat before we head out." His father looked back at the sky and the wall of red. He squeezed his shoulder and led him back to the group. 

-

Damian felt Jon behind him as they went through the mountains. They passed the place they had met Komand'r. Jon's heart flared when they passed the place Damian had fought to free him. He turned to look back at him and Jon's eyes were somber. He pushed the pride and wonder he'd felt at the front through the bond. It shifted to the thought of the night they could have had after visiting the tavern if Jon had come to bed with him like he'd asked. The lust sang through him. 

"Damian," Jon whispered at him. His voice was near scandalized. He chuckled. "That is not fair," Jon whispered to him as he rode next to him. 

"Do you not feel the same?" he asked with a playful pout. Immediately heat shot to his stomach and he gripped the reins as he fought back the moan. He had not expected that. He looked over to Jon. "What did you think of?" Jon was flushed and Damian nudged him. "Tell me." 

"No. We should focus on where we're going." 

"Our fathers are leading the way. I can talk with you for a few seconds. I'll go back to battle plans once I know what caused such a reaction." 

"Damian," Jon warned, pleaded. 

"Yes, Husband?" He felt a familiar curl of affection. 

"I will tell you when we are in private." 

Damian knew that was a lie. He also doubted that they would have any time to themselves when they reached the front. But before he could say anything more he heard a growl from behind him. 

"Someone is coming," Gar hissed. He looked back and Tiger was gone. Damian turned back and saw the light from Jon's hands reflected off the edge of a sword. The light went out and when it flared back his father was on the ground, Clark's sword crossed over his as it blocked another. Tiger was standing behind the attacker who was smiling. His father laughed and the swords eased. Tiger looked angry and confused. 

"Diana," Bruce said and held his hand out. She smiled and hugged him as soon as he was on his feet. " _I have missed you,"_ he said in her native tongue. She pulled back and tutted at him. 

"Your accent has returned." 

"What were you thinking?" Clark asked angrily. Diana slid a dagger that he hadn't noticed back into her boot. She glanced at Tiger as he stalked back to his horse. 

"You haven't gotten any slower in your old age," she replied. She grinned at Clark and Damian was surprised at the petulant look on his face. "When did you notice me?" she asked Bruce and whistled. A horse trotted toward them from further up the path. 

Damian listened to them talk. He had never heard his father talk as much and Clark fumed next to them. His responses were clipped. Damian looked over to Jon. He seemed just as baffled. More Amazons were waiting for them further up the road. 

They grew quiet as they got closer to the front. Damian could see small bundles of sunflowers broken up by scorched earth. As they got closer the sunflowers lined one side of the road. Men walked past them, bowing as they passed. 

They stopped at the edge of camp. The sun was beginning to rise. Damian slid off his horse and stepped forward. Jon stood next to him. The river was low, he could see boulders and rocks breaking the surface. Their shadows were long. His hand found Jon's as he looked at the dots of campfires on the other side. There were too many to count.

"Your Majesties." 

Damian turned and smiled as Ka'tham rushed across the field. Damian squeezed Jon's hand before letting it go. "Tell us. What has happened?" 

Ka'tham waved them forward and they turned away to the slow spread of the sun. He glanced back. The water would not stop them any longer. They did not have three days. 

It seemed that the battle had already begun. Ka'tham led them through camp and the bustle of movement that it had turned into. Men and women all around doning their armor and heading out through the withering fields to the muddy pass. There was already a medical tent set up, soldiers laying in cots, missing limbs, eyes, or just run through. Jon gripped tightly to Damian's hand as they passed and tried to focus on what Ka'tham was saying. 

"They surprised us last night. The water was still knee high and it got the better of us, but they didn't send many men." He assured them, stepping to the side to let a group of Tameranian soldiers by. He continued once they passed. "They got to us when our backs were turned but fortunately we had the flowers." He looked proudly back at Jon before leading them forward. "They made enough racket tearing through them that we had a chance to arm ourselves and put up a fight." 

"You grew all of these?" Jon's mother asked from behind him. He hadn't realized that she was walking so closely.

"Yes ma'am." Ka'tham told her with a cocky smile, that quickly slipped into something more natural. "Well, with instruction from the young King." He nodded to Jon. His mother gripped his arm tight. "It is because of him we even had the soil to support them. And his teaching of new magics helped us grow them tall enough to hold off the invasion when the water started to wane."

"You did well," Damian complimented quietly, his mouth pulled up the tiniest bit in the corner. The smallest hit on pink tinted the man's cheeks as he thanked him and Jon reached through the bond to chastise him for charming him. But Damian just turned it on Jon making him glad that Ka'tham kept talking. 

"We were very fortunate to have the armies that you sent to us," he continued, turning through the village of tents towards a larger one toward the outside. "We had expected some reinforcements from wherever your travels took you… but when the Amazonian army arrived…" He trailed off and shook his head. "And then the Lanterns after that." He blinked back at Jon and Damian and the group that was following after them a little more curiously. "I feel you have many stories still to share with me. But that is for when the day is won." He stopped in front of the large tent and pulled back the canvas, leaning inside. "The young Kings and their party your highness." There was a small mutter before he stepped back and for them to enter. "I must head to the front," he said apologetically. Damian nodded to him and walked into the open tent. Jon stopped to grab his forearm, wishing him luck before he followed his husband inside, the rest of their party tailing after them. 

The general was standing at the head of the table, the Princess and Constantine standing at either side of him as they poured over the map. The general nodded, his face set in a permanent frown. The Princess was more happy to see them, her face hopeful as she stepped up to them and kissed both of their cheeks. She was a far step from the young woman they had seen the last time they were in Tameran. Her dresses set aside for armor, forearm wrapped with a bloody bandage. She looked over their shoulders at their fathers standing in the back of the group and frowned but did not speak on it.

"We were unsure if you would return," she told Jon and Damian, obviously relieved to see them. "We were on the verge of altering our attack plan."

"We thought you died," Constantine said, casually blowing smoke lazily across the tent. His eyes also caught Bruce and Jon's father in the back and he grimaced. "I'd hoped _you_ had died." He spat in their direction.

"Good to see you again Constantine," Bruce offered coolly while Diana smirked at his side. Jon's father frowned at her but didn't say anything. "Our sons neglected to tell us you would be joining us."

"That is probably because I advised against it," he dared him with a little hint of darkness in the corner of his eye. "As their _royal advisor._ I'm glad to see they took said advice. For once."

"Enough," Jon told Constantine sharply. He glared and Jon bit his tongue. He turned to look back at Bruce who put a hand on his father's arm and nodded to him. "Regardless, we are here. Tell us what is to happen." Damian grabbed his hand as the general waved them forward to the table to see where their markers were. Bruce and Diana came to stand at Damian's side while Tiger and his parents came to Jon's. Biz stood back with Raven and Gar, though Jon could practically feel her eagerness to get at the table through the tether of the spell. He pushed down his annoyance and suspicion, but could not keep it from Damian who glanced up at him but remained quiet in their current company. 

"The enemy has some ten thousand men stationed at the riverbank," the general told them, pointing to the delicately carved stone ravens on the map. "We have four thousand men from Tameran. Two thousand of your Amazonian women..." He grumbled it like he thought their army ridiculous. 

"Do not underestimate my ladies," Diana warned him with a broad smile that did nothing to make her look less like the vicious warrior that she was. 

The general stared at her uneasily and Kori took over. "Of course not my lady," She nodded and continued for him. "And we received the Lanterns not long after. The refugees are safe in our city, while fifteen hundred men stayed back to fight." 

Jon nodded, it was honestly more than Jon had expected. Constantine turned to them, raising a bored eyebrow. "And what of Gotham?" 

"We have retaken the palace," Damian confirmed. The three of them nodded and Kori smiled. "However the men were not in good shape. Nearly half had been bewitched, more killed. Nearly half our battalion stayed behind to heal."

The general grimace. "How many?" 

"Two thousand."

"Two thousand?" He demanded. 

A flash of anger that wasn't his shot up Jon's spine pushing him to stand straighter. "It is what we have," Damian told the general simply, eyes daring him to say anything else to it. "Our people have gone through a great deal of suffering. I am not a king that would force the wounded to stand only to die. And neither is my husband." That sank in across the table. "We have two thousand men." 

"More than enough to make way for my ladies," Diana added smugly, watching the general school his face his eyes drifting between Jon and Damian and back down to the table. 

He cleared his throat. "With the river drained, the best chance we have is to meet them in the middle and prevent them from getting to wider ground. We need to push them while the sun is still up. That is when our power is strongest."

"And when Jon is at his most powerful," Damian commented proudly and a nervous jolt ran through his spine. 

"You'll want to come in strong," Raven commented from the corner. The entire room turning to look at her, Gar's hand grabbing her wrist. She seemed to falter under their gaze, but straightened herself up and continued. "Push them back before nightfall."

"And who," the general fixed his gaze on Damian. "is the insolent child you have brought with you?"

"You fucking cunts," Constantine hissed, slamming his hands down on the table. His eyes were inky black and a wisp of smoke was pouring out of his palms. Tiger and Diana both went for their swords while the General pulled the Princess away from the table. "You were supposed to kill the bitch, not bring her into the damned war tent!" The table melted like acid under his hands, decaying away. 

"You would do well to watch your tongue in the presence of your Kings," Diana warned him, but Damian took her wrist and they locked eyes until she silently agreed to step back. 

"She was not of her own mind when she took the kingdom," he said calmly. Too calm. A chill reaching out to Jon that said he would not be allowing Constantine to touch her. 

" _She tried to kill you,"_ he rebutted in anger and disbelief. 

"Her father tried to kill me," Damian corrected. 

"You underestimate a pretty face," he growled his glare still on Raven. Gar had pulled her back into his chest and Biz was standing just in front of them. "She may act sweet but she was born as a tool. A tool for the complete destruction of life as we know it. If she decides to lash out against you."

"She will not." Jon stepped up not and pulled off his glove. He showed the man the dark spiraling knot on his wrist and watched as understanding washed over him. "She cannot."

His eyes lightened and the atmosphere in the tent shifted back to normal. "She bound herself to you," he said in disbelief that turned immediately towards suspicion. "Why?"

"I do not know, and that does not matter," Jon told him easily. "But it does mean that she cannot act against us." 

Constantine sneered. "She will find a way." 

"Then make sure she doesn't," Jon told him, magic flailing just under his skin. He knew his eyes had lit up by the way that he reacted and the reaction of everyone in the room. "Stay here and keep her as far away from the battle as possible. But we do not have time for this." He turned back to the general. "The plan." 

The man swallowed and stepped back forward. "O-our warriors will create a barricade. We'll strike them down with a fast bout of magic before we take it down and advance. That moment of hesitation will save us ground we cannot afford to miss later."

"So I will be at the front," Jon said easily. 

The general nodded. "And you should stay in the middle, for the second wave." He added to Damian. 

A coldness ran through their bond and Jon looked over to him. "You know it's better," he started. 

"I do." He nodded curtly. "But I do not like it." 

"We will take care of him," the Princess promised, her voice so soft and sincere that Jon almost missed it. She smiled kindly at Damian and reached over the table to take his hand. "You have done so much for our people. We trust you completely. Please trust us now." 

Jon felt Damian's resolve wavering when Diana placed her hand on his shoulder. "Let them play with their magic," she told him with a grin. "We will come in after them and sweep up their mess." Jon watched as Damian looked between the two of them and finally to Jon before he nodded. 

"We don't have any time to waste," the General told them. "My men will see you to your tents so may prepare. The battle begins when the sun is at its peak."

Everyone filed out until it was only him and Jon. "Go ahead," Damian told him. "I'll join you in a moment." He nodded Jon forward when it looked like he was going to stay. "Get the men settled. They need some rest."

Once Jon had gone Damian leaned over the map. The general had protected his country's borders for longer than Damian had been alive. He was sure that this was a solid strategy, but he could not help the dread filling him as he looked at the marks on the map where their enemies had attacked. 

"What do you see?" He didn't jump when his father spoke. He'd felt him watching him since Jon left. 

"I am not sure."

"You look troubled. Why did you not speak up?" 

"It is not my place."

"These are your armies," his father told him and stepped up to the table. "Not his." Damian looked down at the table. He knew that it was a solid strategy, no matter how much he disliked the idea of being separated from Jon. But something still felt strange. 

"I do not know what is bothering me," he said. "I cannot argue when I do not know my own argument." He sighed and the exhaustion of their travel settled heavily on his shoulders. 

"Go rest while you can." Bruce guided him out of the tent and pushed him toward the one with a familiar banner hanging outside. 

Jon was sitting on the edge of the over sized cot in the middle of the tent. He had removed his shirt, but looked like he was too tired to unlace his boots. Their battle attire had been set out and Jon was staring at it. Damian let the cloth fall shut behind him and walked quietly across the tent. He kneeled and pulled the knot at the top of Jon's boot loose. Jon turned and watched him as he worked the laces free and slid Jon's foot free. He started on the other and Jon touched his cheek. He glanced up. 

"I can do that," Jon said, like Damian hadn't just caught him frozen in the very act. He shook his head and kept working. When he was done he pushed Jon back so he was laying on the cot. Damian rushed out of his own boots and clothes and curled up next to him. "I don't know how they expect us to rest." 

"They don't, but they know our bodies need it." 

"I wish I could close my eyes and when I woke up the day would be won and we could go back home." 

Damian chuckled. Jon's hands trailed up and down his back and he couldn't help but agree. Their marriage celebration would be spent on the battlefield. He would rather spend it in his bed with Jon. 

"You know my father once fought for three days without stopping? He said it was the most important battle of his life." 

Jon shook his head. "You never told me this." 

"He was my age. It was the final battle against Tamaran. Our forces were exhausted and out numbered. The land was damp, with more than just rain. But he pushed forward. The soldiers said no sword could touch him. He continued on until he took their land. By the end of the battle he was King and we had a treaty with Tamaran." Damian shifted so he could see Jon. "It was the only time he ever fought without your father." 

Jon's eyes flicked down to him. He could see his mind working as he thought through his response. Damian kissed his chest and turned so he could listen to Jon's heart. 

"When he told me, I cried. You'd just left with your mom for the first time. I thought that I'd have to go off to war while you were gone." He felt the rumble of Jon's laugh. "Even though we won't be side by side, I'm glad you're here. I don't think I could do this without you." 

"You could, but I'd never let you." He closed his eyes when he felt Jon kiss the top of his head. 

They did not sleep. Neither of them could relax enough for sleep to claim them, but when the call came he felt as if he'd slept for days. Jon dressed and helped Damian when he struggled with his armor. He shook his head when Jon picked up the heavy armor meant for his thighs. 

"I would not be able to move in that." 

"You cannot go without." 

"I am not wearing it. I will find something else." 

Jon looked like he was about to argue, but a soldier called for him. It was time. Jon set the armor down and stepped forward. "I will see you on the other side."

"I will hold you to that," Damian said and tugged Jon down into a harsh kiss. Jon pulled away and walked out without looking back, and he could feel how much he did not want to leave him. How hard he had to focus on each step away from him. Damian looked at the armor and grabbed Clark's dagger before heading in the opposite direction. 

He watched as the men lined up in front of him. Jon was talking to the Princess at the head of the group. Damian forced himself to look away. Diana was smiling at him when he looked over to her. 

"What?" he asked when she didn't look away. 

"It is nothing." She looked back to the front but did not stop smirking. He sighed and listened to the general give his orders. He felt someone step up behind him and when he looked he felt the tension in his shoulders ease when he saw his father and Clark. He wished that Jon was here. They looked every bit the heroes in the stories they'd grown up listening to made them out to be. 

"You still have it?" Clark asked. Damian startled when he touched the sheath at his hip. 

"It's protected me well so far." Damian felt his nerves and touched the hilt before forcing his hand away. 

"Everything is going to be okay," Clark said with a smile and a hand on his shoulder. Damian felt that same belief that he had in the forest even though so little had been _okay_ after. He nodded and looked up. They had an hour. The first group would be moving soon. 

"When we approach the river you must not hesitate," Diana said. "The drop is sharp, but you will manage. You must make it down before the person behind you." 

"I will be fine," he said. She frowned at him, but nodded. 

He felt the pull of Jon's magic as the group started their attack. He watched as magic flowed across the river. When they reached the other side their group moved. Damian glanced over to Diana as they ran next to each other. He smiled and turned back before leaping off the ledge. Diana let out a cry. He was in freefall for a moment before he collided with a solid body. Goliath roared and he settled on his back. He looked down and saw the shock on Diana's face and his father's amused response. Goliath veered and Damian held on tightly as an arrow flew by them. He urged him down and they soared across the river. He saw a group of the enemy pushing through the line. Goliath roared as he tore through the men. 

"Up!" he shouted when he saw the fireball coming their way. Goliath growled, his entire body rumbling beneath him. He arced high into the sun before flipping. Damian's stomach dropped as he floated away from him. Then they were speeding down and into the barricade that had shot at them. People were screaming. He threw one of the vials Lois had given to him and pulled Goliath back into the air. They took out four more barricades. Damian dropped vials that exploded with shards of ice into the groups of their enemies. Goliath let out a small noise and his fatigue at maintaining that size slammed into him. 

"It's okay," he said and rubbed his head. "You did great. Can you get me back to my dad?" 

Goliath let out another small noise and turned back toward the middle of the battle. Some of their own soldiers shouted in fear as Goliath soared barely above their heads. Damian shouted when the body beneath him suddenly shrank. He tumbled through the air, but still managed to catch Goliath before he crashed into the ground. He tucked him into the bag at his side. His eyes were already closed with sleep. 

"Damian!" His father shouted and he barely dodged the attack. He reached for his sword, but he knew he would not get it out in time. A blade slid into the man's chest as he loomed over him. He slumped to his knees. Damian looked over his shoulder to where Tiger was frowning at him. He pulled the blade free and handed it back to Tiger as he fell into step with the warriors around him. 

\---

It felt wrong leaving Damian as he made his way to the front. He wanted to turn back and get one last look at him, just in case-- but he also knew that he couldn't think like that. Nothing was going to happen to him. Nothing would happen to Damian. Jon needed to believe that if he was to help lead their armies to victory. This was a mindset that he could not lose. 

He was surprised when he reached his group to find Biz standing among the men. All of them casting sidelong glances at the dark world giant with cautious whispers that could just barely be heard. Jon walked over to him. Neither of them greeted each other, just shared a look before he finally said. "I wasn't expecting you at the front. I thought you'd be with Tiger." 

Biz blinked, considering his words before he spoke in his deep grumble of broken Gotham words. "Was told magic users fight at front," he said simply. 

Jon blinked. "I did not know you could do magic," he admitted a little shamefully. As much of a stranger as Biz was to him, it felt wrong that he didn't know this simple fact. This brotherhood that they silently shared. 

He surprised Jon when he laughed and reached out and ruffled his hair with a smile. "Was asked by Master to keep secret," he said kindly. "But I ask Master if I can fight with Jonathan Kent. He accepts my wish." 

Jon swallowed. He hadn't expected Biz to care whether or not he lived or died during this battle. A rush of emotion ran through him and he felt Damian's curiosity poke back before the Princess stepped through the crowd. "Jonathan," she said, her voice as bright as her eyes. She grabbed his arm and surprised Jon by smiling kindly at Biz. "I was looking for you. Come with me," she said and led him forward, Biz following silently behind them. 

He was surprised how far the bond stretched as they walked. The feeling of Damian there, a pleasant reminder of his safety at the back of Jon's mind. The Tameranian's all nodded and bowed to their Princess as they passed and he was surprised that Koriander smiled easily at them all.

"You seem untroubled by what we are walking into," Jon mused, wondering if his own nerves would ease as the sun rose. 

"My people need me to be strong," she said simply. "I will be an example for them. No matter what is to come."

He could not help but admire her bravery. And wonder why it was her that had to bare that burden alone. "And what of your sister?" He asked softly, watching as her eyes fell to the ground, cheeks heating. 

"She stays back to protect the kingdom." 

"That seems… unfair." 

Her eyes were hot with energy when she looked back up at Jon. "You have to understand. The last time our people fought on this ground, our father was killed. I was still young, but Komand'r was old enough that the memory of it still haunts her. She is doing what she must to protect our kingdom. She has the last royal stone."

"I'm sorry," Jon apologized as she trailed off. "I bare no judgement, I only thought it odd. My brother died before I was born, but I can only imagine I would not want him to go to war alone." 

"Oh… I thought-" Kori frowned at him and then over at Biz and shook her head, Ka'tham waving them over before she had a chance to answer Jon's unspoken question. 

Ka'tham looked more terrifying than Jon had ever seen him. He'd been in armor before when he'd guarded them in Tameran, but now, standing before the great divide, he looked like one of the heroes that Jon and Damian used to read about as children. He wished that Damian was there with him. A small pull of longing dropping across their bond from the other side. But Jon shook it off. It was good that Damian was behind him. With Diana and their fathers. They would keep each other safe. "Your majesties." He bowed as they approached and Jon swore he saw a twinkle in Kori's eye as they stopped beside him. "Did you manage to rest?"

"No," Jon told him truthfully and they shared a rueful smile. "Though I suddenly feel wildly awake." 

"That's good." He nodded. He glanced up at Biz as well but only looked back to Jon. "We should get moving. The attack starts once the sun reaches the peak of the channel," he said pointing directly ahead. 

The walk over to the river took longer than Jon remembered. He'd made that walk every morning and afternoon for three weeks when they had last been there, but what had been only minutes now felt like hours. They stood there at the front of it, toes meeting the edge of the riverbank, mud and muck and rock the only thing between them and the enemy army. A force of darkness, ten thousand men strong.

"Remember to breathe," Ka'tham told Jon softly enough that he knew it was just for him. "As long as you are breathing, they cannot win." 

Jon did his best to embrace those words as the sun reached the peak and Azerath surged forward. 

It took Ka'tham pulling his arm to get Jon to move, his legs feeling numb from the fear of unknown battle. He knew in the back of his mind that men survived war all of the time but he had always, very foolishly, believed that all that had to do with as a number. If there were more of you, you won. And of course he knew that wasn't true. He looked at Bruce and his father and Diana and the League and he knew that if you had enough power or skill that you could survive any number of enemies. He cast a glance over to Kori thinking that she might be thinking the same way. But her eyes were fierce and set straight ahead as she made a triangle with her hands around the stone in her chest and shouted. 

A beam of radiant, hot energy erupted from her and straight into the front of the enemy's army, knocking back at least thirty men. Very few got back to their feet. The Tameranian's cheered and the Princess grinned, raising her fist and shouting as she charged forward. 

Jon drew his sword and set his brow. His stomach still turning. It felt like none of this was actually happening to him, like instead he was watching it from the side. But that didn't do anything to dull the vibration running up his arm as he caught the sword coming for his head. Or the slide of his blade through the neck of the man who owned it. Blood splattered over his face and snapped him back into himself, releasing his knife as he took the man next to him. 

They were everywhere. He knew that he had to make the right moves if he planned on making it back. He could not panic and he could not use magic as the end all attack. He had to stay breathing and moving long enough for Triton to make his appearance. So he had to be smart. He slashed his way through a dozen men, trying to ignore the sound of Biz's hammer behind him as it crushed skulls and armor. The best way to preserve energy was to draw on what was already around him, even if it was only rock and mud. He glanced back at Biz, sun buzzing under his skin and shouted for him to fall in closer to him. When he felt Biz at his back, Jon shouted, _"Zasakene!"_ And the water rushed up out of the ground and turned into a mist around them. 

There was a stutter of calm around them, blades ceasing as they waited for a new attack. Jon took a deep breath and reached out to feel the intent of whoever was around him and one by one zeroed in on his prey. 

He didn't keep the mist up too long. While it helped him get through the front line, it also kept him from the sun. Once he had Biz had cut through thirty men he let it drop and saw the carnage piled up around their group. The Princess was panting, Ka'tham standing strong at her back, the battle raging on around them. But even with the dent they had made, there was always another man. Always a new mage coming down on them.

"It won't let up!" Jon called, holding up a shield over the four of them as a curse washed across the mud. Two of the soldiers who had been running up to them screamed and fell to the ground as boils overtook their bodies and exploded into festering sores. Kori'andr cursed and sent a shot out into the blackness around them, but they couldn't see where the attack was coming from. "How do we get through?" 

"I don't know, but we can't just stand here," Ka'tham seethed. Jon was about to suggest they push through when Biz gripped his shoulder and nodded upward. 

"Look." 

There was a light shining from above them, big and bright with the gleaming light of a deep purple stone. It grew and grew until the black curtain around them turned grey and in a moment it shot off towards the ground. Jon caught himself on Biz as the shield broke and barely managed to summon a breeze before the fog could come in on them. It blew away enough for them to see the aftermath of the light. The crowned and armored visage of Kom'andr standing among the ruin of over a hundred men. 

Kori'andr took a shaken step forward, an elated gasp escaping her and alerting Kom'andr to her presence. She turned, eyes wild only to go soft as her sister ran into her arms. "Sorry I'm late." Jon heard her say as they stepped forward. She locked eyes with Jon and gave him a nod. 

"That was one hell of an attack," he told her panting, the sun was almost set and he could feel the fatigue starting to set in on him. 

"The royal stone," she told him bracing for the next wave. "It is meant to create a shield, but it can pack an incredible punch if it's charged up." They waited as the smoke cleared but nothing was happening, the fight behind them still raged but there was nothing from the front. 

"That cannot possibly be all of them…" Kori'andr muttered. And when the smoke finally cleared, Jon was horrified to see that she was correct. The Azarathians were standing fifty yards back, all of them looking up at the behemoth of a man who had stepped out in front of them. 

There was only one moment of light for Jon to see clearly the ruler of Azarath. He had heard him called the demon king before, but had never understood fully just how accurate the description was until that moment. His skin was red and cracked with volcanic veins. Long white hair braided down his back and around two black horns that looked like they'd been ripped out of his skull. His eyes were glowing with power, the light out of them, the only light around him, like he was pulling it out of the sky. 

Dread hit Jon hard when his eyes locked on them, he pulled on all that he could to build a shield as Kom'andr put her hand to her stone and the light began to charge. 

It only took a second. 

Between one breath and another for an arrow the size of Jon's whole body to spear Kom'ander through her chest plate and the world to explode around him. 

He couldn't hear anything. He reached out and could feel the mud under him as he clawed his way back to his feet. There was only darkness. Darkness and the cheers of Azarath only broken by Kori'andr's sobs and Ka'tham shouting for retreat. Jon looked over his shoulder to see Triton turn his head to him and even though he knew that he should be terrified, his only thought was Damian. 

He could feel his confusion. His exhaustion. His fear. And Jon pulled on that, running back through the mud until he finally saw him at the edge of the river bed. He was fighting three men. Catching every blade but unable to catch a break. Jon saw the man behind him raise an axe and shouted. And suddenly Jon was right behind him, dagger in the man's neck, his sword in another's side while Damian crumpled the next. 

\---

Damian could feel the flow of Jon's magic through him more than he'd ever felt it before. But it didn't hurt like it had when they were with the Amazons. It flowed out to Jon and before Damian could feel it's loss warmth radiated through him and the store of magic within him was replenished. He kept fighting even when exhaustion started to tug at him. They had barely been able to hold the land across the river. Their men were pushed back time and time again to the edge. 

Then Damian felt it. 

A brush of a mind and an overwhelming sense of doom. If he had not already known that it was not Raven who had held his mind, this would have convinced him. The sheer power radiated. He could see that the Azerathian soldiers felt it too, some of their voices cried out in victory, some of their hands shook as they continued to swing their swords. Goliath whined in his bag. Damian soothed him as best his could before dodging an axe. He could not see the enemy king, though he could feel him coming closer. It was like watching a storm brew in the distance knowing that it would soon reach him. But he could do nothing to stop it. He needed to stay alive. Push back the latest group that had slipped past the edges of their defense. 

Goliath screeched and Damian's knees wobbled as the king stepped out onto the battlefield. He could feel Goliath's fear as strongly as he felt his own. His mind was crying out to flee to run. Then Damian saw it, the flash of light reflecting off a distant fire, the tip of an arrow. He heard a victorious yell as the men they'd been fighting circled together and flung themselves forward. He heard a crack, louder than the clash of the swords and the cries of the men before a gust of wind rushed through them. He stumbled, but thrust Clark's dagger into the man's neck before his sword could finish it's swing. When he found his footing again, he looked around and realized their group had been separated. He didn't see his father around. He could hear Diana, though he had been able to hear her from across the battlefield all day. The cry for retreat grew louder, more fervent. The cries of the Azerathian men were growing louder, oddly rhythmic. He could hear a single voice chanting in his mind. 

Then Damian felt a familiar warmth at his back. He turned enough to see Jon's blade before he struck out with his own. 

"Jon!" Clark shouted. He was halfway across the river, but was turning toward them. Bruce and Diana both were pulling him back with them as they continued their retreat. 

"We must go," Damian said. He could feel a weight press down on him. He pushed Jon over the steep incline and they ran together as the last of their men followed them. Jon threw up a shield as a barrage of arrows rained down on them. Damian could hear Clark's voice shouting, but he could hear nothing over the sound of their feet stumbling over the rocks. Jon caught his elbow before he could fall when they reached the edge. The soldiers had not followed them into the river and now they were out of range. 

"How did you survive without me?" Jon asked with a tired smile. His chest was heaving with each breath. 

"I'm surprised you didn't pass out this time," Damian replied shortly. 

"That's because I'm-" 

Jon's hand slipped from his back. Damian turned and he saw Jon looking down at the arrow tip sticking out of his chest. He could see the flared end like fire behind Jon's back. 

"No," he whispered. Then Jon's footing slipped and he started to fall back down the incline. He grabbed him and pulled. "No. No. Jon. It's okay. It's okay." He kept repeating that as he pulled them both up the mud and the crumbling earth. 

"Help," he shouted when he slipped feet from the edge. He would not be able to pull them both over the edge. "Please!" His voice broke as he cried out and pulled Jon up. He would keep trying, but his feet could not find solid ground. 

"There is my puppet." 

Damian looked back and the king was standing at the edge of the river. His teeth a slash of white across his face as he smiled. Jon's body shook and Damian cried out. He pulled him as close as he could with the arrow running through him. "Please, not again," he begged as he whispered against Jon's hair. "Please stay. We're almost there. Just hold on."

Triton took a step forward and the water boiled and steam rose with each step. Damian reached for the edge. He had no voice to call out, his sobs as the warmth against him faded, had stolen everything from him. _Please._

With a roar they were over the edge. Goliath had Jon in his claws as Damian held onto his back. He saw Clark running for them, the people watching were all moving along the front toward the path Goliath was taking. 

Damian felt a purr of satisfaction and looked back as a lightning storm built between the hands of the king. He could see it now, their entire force obliterated by a single blow. He took a deep breath. 

"Shield!" He shouted as loud as he could. "Shield!" he cried again. He saw a single figure run straight toward the river from their camp. Damian felt magic flow through the sunflowers as Goliath leapt over them and a wall like no other he'd seen before rose to the night sky. Lightning danced across it, but it held strong and Goliath slid to a stop. Clark pulled Jon from his paws. Damian collapsed to the ground. He pushed himself up and to them, and stumbled a couple times before reaching them. He could feel it, the last bit of life and warmth. He knew that their men were surrounding them, watching as their king weeped, but he did not care. He would not lose him.

"You are finally mine," he whispered and kissed him. He could taste blood on his lips. "I need more time with you. This was not enough." 

He could hear the arguments above him over what they should do. Someone called out for Lois. Then for all the healers. Then Damian heard it. 

"I can save him."

He looked up at the princess. The moonlight looked like it was shining from beneath her skin as she looked at him, her eyes alight with the power in her. 

"Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who keeps remembering to post this well after midnight?
> 
> Spoilers... It's me. 
> 
> One more chapter! 
> 
> Eeks! 
> 
> -DNA


	23. Chapter 23

Jon was so tired when he opened his eyes that he wasn't sure he was really awake. He blinked a few times until his eyes focused on the canvas top of a tent and the flicker of light from the fire outside. He didn't know how he got there. He didn't know what had happened to him. But his heart had literally been ripped out of his chest and momentarily he thought the very worst. He shot up on the cot, blanket pooling around his waist.

"Damian!" He croaked and coughed--then groaned as his chest ached. He doubled over and grabbed at the bandages as the electricity ran up his spine and back down and then up again to his chest. 

"Careful!" A deep voice scolded him, grabbing his hand away from the bandages. It took a moment for Jon to be able to see clearly and for his father's face to come into view. He didn't sound like himself. His voice was deeper and broken and sounded like someone had frayed his vocal cords with a blade. His eyes were gaunt and red, sitting too deep in his face to look swollen but Jon knew that he had been crying. Over what? Him? 

He stopped pulling against his grip and Clark let go of his arm slowly, sitting back in the chair he had at his bedside and looking at him. It looked like it was difficult. Like his body was too heavy and he couldn't quite hold up the weight.

"Damian?" Jon asked when the pain stopped stabbing him and settled into more of an intense throb. 

"He is well," his father promised quietly. His voice cracking slightly as he rubbed his face. "In a war meeting. But he will be back soon. They barely managed to pry him away from you." Jon took a deep breath of relief and grit his teeth at the stab of pain. "You should lay back," his father said softly helping him lay back down, propping him up with a few pillows, he didn't know where they came from. "You need to rest."

"But the battle-" Jon started to argue. 

"Do not worry about that right now."

"But-"

"The battle has stopped," Clark said more firmly, squeezing his wrist. His voice was so quiet, like if he spoke louder it would wound Jon. "You have time. And you must heal more."

"The battle stopped?" Jon repeated. He waited for his father to nod before he asked. He remembered everyone running, Triton stepping onto the battle feild. The explosion. "But… why?" He watched his father open his mouth and then close it again. Dread settled in deep in Jon's chest. "Pa… what happened?" 

-

Jon sat alone in front of the wall of sunflowers, so thick and bright that he couldn't put a hand through it. His mother would have been amazed by it. Would have told Jon that it was a gift from the new gods, a blessing on their battle. But she had made it. She had given all of herself to the pool of new magic at their feet. So she would never see it. 

He felt Damian before he heard him running up behind him, winded from the jog and breathing ragged. There was a pool of anxiety seeping through their bond. But it stopped and gave way to sadness when he found Jon sitting in front of the spot where his mother had thrown up the wall, giving her life to save his and so many others. 

He knew that he shouldn't be out there. He had not yet healed from the arrow that had found him across the impossible distance of the river. His father had told him everything that had happened. How Triton had shattered the royal stone and Kom'andr had died, causing the retreat. How Triton had bewitched his arrow to find Jon through the crowd, piercing his heart. How Damian had tried to drag him out of the trench until Goliath finally flew them to safety. How his mother had ran out to save them all from the approaching army. And how as his life started to wane, Raven had regained her magic and saved him. It had been an impossible task, even the most skilled healers wouldn't have been able to predict the outcome. But Damian had refused to give up on him, and Raven worked herself into an exhaustion until they were sure he'd make it through the night. He was still very seriously wounded. His father had been right, he needed rest-- but the pull of his grief had been too strong for him to ignore. 

There must have been a thousand things that Damian wanted to say to Jon, he could feel him holding back and also letting go when he walked up next to him. He folded gracefully, sinking down so that he was sitting at Jon's side and Jon leaned his head onto his husband's shoulder.

"I feel her everywhere," he told him, voice thick as his eyes blurred. "I know she's gone, but it's like she's right in front of me and I can't…" He sucked in a shuttering breath and Damian pulled him in closer. Jon didn't know how long they sat there before Damian helped him carefully back to their tent, wound sobbed freshly open in his grief. 

-

He had a fever the next morning, and after half an hour of insisting that he was fine, Damian finally convinced him to take a medicine that would make him sleep. "We have time," he'd insisted even though no one else seemed to agree with that sentiment. "We will make time for this," he'd amended when Jon fixed him with a look. He did not take no for an answer. 

It was two full days before he woke next, surprised to see that it was Raven who sat at his side. She was reading absently, giving Jon a moment to look at her without her notice. He had never really allowed himself to think it in his past jealousy, but Raven was quite beautiful. Her features were small and surprisingly sweet, eyes large and almost luminously purple. He looked around without turning his head and saw Biz asleep in the corner, head hanging awkwardly so that his chin touched his chest. 

He shifted and was surprised when it didn't sting him like the last time. Raven's eyes darted over to his and she set her book down before fixing Jon with her full attention. "You are awake." She sounded relieved. "Good. How are you feeling?" 

"Sore," Jon told her softly and pushed himself up. He looked down at his chest and was surprised to see the bandage had gone, a vivid red and knotted scar over his heart, cutting across the dream sigil. Raven put her hand over it, palm letting out a black void, not completely unlike Constantine's if not less sinister.

"Do you feel any pain?" She asked, her eyebrows drawing in. 

Jon shook his head and after a second of hesitation, he placed his hand over Raven's. She blinked in surprise, black fading out of her eyes as she found his. "You saved my life. Even though I have been cruel to you."

"You were afraid," she said simply, understanding. "I helped hurt someone you love. Many someones."

"That was not your fault."

"But it was still done." 

Jon squeezed her hand. "It isn't possible to hold all the sins of your father. I know that perhaps better than anyone. What was done has been done. All you can do now is try to right the wrongs. And I'd say you have made a good start." 

Raven smiled, it was small and tired but it was there. Gar chose that moment to walk into the tent, his eyes narrowing on their hands and he glared back up at Jon before he looked at Raven and it turned to a pout. "They sent me to get you," he said to Raven. "They have a question about the wall."

Jon's chest pained and it had absolutely nothing to do with his wound. "I'll come with you." 

She helped him carefully stand up, making him move slowly until she was sure he was okay. He pulled on a shirt but did not bother lacing it, the rough scar still exposed but the cool air felt good on his still slightly fevered skin. He was able to walk on his own through the camp, conversations all around them dropping off when the soldiers saw him walking by. He nodded to them and tried his best to offer the support they needed. A few of them smiled, some waved, but when he got to the war tent the smile fell off of Jon's face. No one turned when they entered, the conversation too loud to be heard.

"It isn't possible," Constantine told them like he had said it before, frustration clear in his tone. "Even if all of our mages tried to take it down, who knows if it could work. Not to mention the considerable amount of magic it takes to counter a spell of this magnitude. Unless you can do something about it," he seethed over at Jon's father.

Clark frowned deeply. "Even if I still had the ability, my wife's magic was very different to my own. I'm afraid I won't be much use to you."

"Then we cut it down," the general said, his cheeks red from arguing. 

"And exhaust the men?" Ka'tham demanded. Jon was surprised to see him there, standing so close to Kori'andr that their shoulders were almost touching. "We might as well offer ourselves up on a plate."

"We may not have another choice," Damian said. He sounded tired. He felt tired. His back was to Jon but he already knew the expression that would be on his husband's face. His mouth pursed into a thin line and his brow drawn in like it did when he was playing a game he wasn't sure he'd win. "We cannot allot the Azarath army any more time. We need them weak."

"Then why not just let them cut it down?" The General grumbled in aggravation. 

"And have our camp overrun?" Damian snapped back. "Losing the riverbed isn't an option."

"I can take it down," Jon said. He grimaced when his throat felt like gravel, voice not as loud as he wanted it to be. But it was loud enough. All of them turned to look at Jon surprised, eyes darting down to look at his scar then back up. 

"Jon…" he was surprised to see it was Bruce who had spoken. "Are you sure that is a good idea?" 

He stepped up next to Damian, who placed a hand at the center of his back. Jon moved him to the side and motioned for Raven to come stand next to him. The group seemed surprised but no one said a word against it. "It's the only way. My mother-" his voice broke but he pushed past it. "Her magic is my own. New magic comes from the earth and one's own spirit. Counter curses won't have any effect. But it can be repurposed. I should be able to absorb it, but ," he touched his chest, "I won't be able to hold it for long. But…" he looked at Damian who was watching him carefully. "Maybe you can."

Damian was tired. He did not think he had slept more than an hour at a time since they had first reached the border. He kept being woken by nightmares. Some were old nightmares that he'd had since he was a child. Some were new. Whether it be them stuck in the mud and ruin or Triton silently walking into the tent - all of them ended with Jon dead in his arms. He would jolt awake and always sought out the beat of Jon's heart. By the time his heart calmed someone would call for him and he'd be back out to deal with some problem. He agreed with Jon's thought and took in the comfort of having him close and standing. 

The others did not agree. They argued over the impossibility of controlling someone else's magic. Then questioned Damian's ability to hold it. Damian looked at Clark who had been silent. 

"If he can withstand my magic then my mother's will be no trouble," Jon said. His face was strangely pale and he knew he was not strong enough to be up yet. 

"He did house my father's magic for months," Raven said. 

That started a new argument and Damian could feel Jon's energy starting to drop off. Finally Clark suggested that he go back and lay down. Jon looked like he was going to refuse. Damian knew he was not yet strong enough. He rubbed Jon's back and drew his attention. "I will join you in a moment. You have to be well before the wall can be lowered. Rest." Jon nodded and let Clark take his arm. 

When the cloth fell closed Damian turned back to the table. The general was already dismissing the bickering and had moved on to infantry stratagem. He seemed proud of his plan. A plan that would fail like the first had failed. Damian pointed out an option, a small change that he knew would make a difference. He was shot down. He felt his control slipping with his exhaustion. His strength was yet again being dismissed because it did not outwardly show. He could not prove that he was strong enough to be a vessel for the power, but he could prove this. 

"Perhaps it would be best to leave the planning to the men who will be working the battlefield," the general commented. Damian's eyes flicked to his father. He met them before looking down at the map. 

"I apologize, could you repeat that?" Constantine shifted away from the general. But the man did not notice it. He was too busy pushing his stupid figures across the map. 

"You are injured and the priority should be to keep your majesties safe. Morale has been low since your outburst." The man's mouth twisted with distaste.

Damian's hands spread out on the table as his anger rose in him. "Outburst?" 

The general finally looked up at him and did a double take. 

"I have tolerated your comments on my age and experience. I have listened to your poor battle plans with little critique. It is obvious that you have forgotten a simple fact. I am _your_ king." The man was staring at him now. "You claim that you can protect this swath of land, but it was your plan that got your queen killed, that nearly took my husband. Our men are downtrodden and exhausted because of your pathetic plans." He straightened and slid his fingers along the table as he did. He tapped it once and the general looked down at his fingers. "Your council is no longer required. You may join the men. Perhaps you can improve their morale." He turned to Tiger who had walked in during his rant. Tiger froze for a half second. "What did you find?" 

He listened to Tiger's report of the border and what they could see beyond the wall. He felt the general slip from the tent without a word. Damian thanked Tiger and leaned back over the map. He let out a breath. 

"Does anyone have any ideas other than this?" he asked and knocked over the first three figures. It was an old formation that hadn't worked twenty years ago. It wouldn't work now. He looked around and when everyone just looked at him, he sighed. "I do not either." 

"Let us reconvene in the morning," his father suggested. "A rested mind will be able to see more clearly." 

Damian tried not to let his father's words feel like he was sent to bed. He was correct and with a nod he agreed, "First light." 

His father followed him out. He felt his shoulders tighten. He was ready for the lecture on how he should have handled it. He should have controlled his temper. He shouldn't have reacted so strongly in front of their soldiers when he'd returned with Jon. He should have listened to the general. He knew it all. But he was surprised when his dad tugged him closer and leaned against him. Bruce had been at every meeting, had sat with Jon when they first realized how they had been saved and Clark had refused to leave the wall. He was likely even more drained than Damian and even now he could see the struggle he was having with keeping his gait even. 

"You did well," Bruce said when they reached the tent. Damian felt a bubble of pride at his father's words. "Sleep and you will know what to do." 

They stepped through the door. Jon was laying on the bed, and his eyes found Damian's immediately. Clark's lecture petered out as he turned. 

"Come, let the boys sleep." Bruce held out his hand to Clark. Damian walked further in. He felt like he was interrupting something. Clark breathed out through his nose before walking out. Bruce offered them smiles before turning to Clark and saying, "I could use a nap myself." 

Damian watched Clark's arm move to support his father before sitting down. He pulled his boots off and pants and struggled with the buttons at the wrists of his shirt before shrugging out of that as well. Jon was watching him with mild interest. He suspected that Jon didn't have energy for anything more than keeping his eyes open. He crawled into the bed and pressed himself as close as he could to Jon's chest. He wished that he could climb even closer, so he would always hear, feel, the rhythm of his heart. 

"You will still be here when I wake?" he asked. Jon nodded and drew his hand closer. Damian closed his eyes and breathed in Jon's scent. It was still laced with the lavender of Raven's magic. He pressed his nose against his neck until all he could smell was Jon and Jon alone.

He did not know how long he had slept, but when he woke Jon was talking. He grunted and lifted his head. Ka'tham was standing at the foot of the bed talking to Jon. He chuckled when he looked down at Damian. 

"You are late," he told him. Damian groaned. He pressed his head against Jon's chest. "The Amazon queen thinks that it is _cute."_

"I am coming," Damian grumbled and pushed himself up. Jon sat up with him, though he did not move his legs. He was grateful that he was going to stay here and rest as he needed. He got dressed while the other two continued to chat. "I will be back soon. Stay here?" He waited for Jon to nod before kissing him. "If I find you outside of that bed, I'll sick Biz on you." 

"Do not keep me waiting then," Jon said. There was a spark in his eyes and Damian looked down at the wound on his chest. He was speechless as he stepped out of the tent to Jon's laughter. 

"How late am I?" he asked. 

Ka'tham hummed. Damian rubbed his head and pushed into the tent. The first thing he saw was Diana's smirk. She asked him if he slept well and laughed when his father made a noise. Damian ignored it and apologized to the others in the tent before looking at the map. They went over the trouble areas, and went back and forth with their plans. He knew that none of them would go as exactly as they wished, such was battle. 

"I told you to rest," he said and everyone looked at him in confusion. He looked back at the door and sighed. He knew that Jon wouldn't listen to him. The guilty grin that Jon gave him when he stepped into the tent regretfully soothed his irritation. 

"I got bored." 

Damian grumbled and grabbed a crate. He set it next to him and stared at it until Jon sat down. When he looked back his father was smiling. He coughed and looked at the map. He wasn't completely happy with what they had planned, but it would work. They would move as units and not a solid line. Their wing circling and taking them from the side.

"None of this means anything if we cannot defeat the king." Jon took his hand. He glanced over to him and knew that he could feel his fear. Damian could not get the image of him stepping into the riverbed and the remaining water turning to steam beneath his feet. Damian hadn't been able to keep him out of his own mind. How would they-

"Damian," Jon said softly. He looked over to him. "He is a man." 

"And he will die as all men do," Clark said. 

He pushed aside his doubt and listened to their fathers talk about the last time they faced Triton. He saw his father hesitate and glance to Clark before looking at Damian and finishing his sentence. He knew that he was hiding something before Jon had pushed that across their bond. 

"Perhaps we should be asking the princess," Diana suggested. 

"You want to ask her how to kill her own father?" Clark asked. His father's expression shifted. Damian wondered if maybe he had once considered what it would take to end his grandfather. 

"She does not seem to be fond of him," Diana said. Everyone was silent for a few moments before Damian sighed and sent Ka'tham to get Raven. 

He rested his hand on Jon's back when Raven walked in and stood with Gar across the table from them. Diana was the first to broach the subject. Raven did not look surprised. She answered their questions. When Jon spoke Damian was surprised that he did not hear the anger that he had heard before. 

"Should we not fight him with magic?" Jon asked. Raven glanced over to Clark. 

"You did not tell him?" 

"Tell him what?" Damian asked. 

"My father has a sense for magic. The stronger the magic the easier it is for him to find." 

"Then we will get to him without magic," Damian said. He could feel the anger simmer beneath his skin. He had wondered how the two with the strongest magic had been targeted so quickly, but it all made sense. They should have been warned. "Once we make it to him," Damian glanced at Raven. "It will not matter if he knows where we are."

They continued to talk and Damian listened and added as much information to the plan working in his mind as he could. He looked down at the board. Jon kept talking, asking questions, posing possible actions. 

"We will work out a plan. Give us some time to think it over." Jon stood and the others agreed and the tent cleared. Damian felt like he was on the verge of a break through, but he could not force the slowly coalescing idea to form. Jon leaned against him. "You will get it. We should eat."

Damian nodded and agreed. He looked across the table to his father. He didn't realize he'd stayed. He crossed the table and pat Jon's shoulder. 

"You handled them well. Asked good questions." 

"Did you know that Jon would be targeted?" Damian asked. 

"No," Bruce said and shook his head. "Though I had always wondered why the Tamaran army lost so many more men than we did." 

Damian stepped out of the tent. Jon kept close to his side. Damian supported him as best he could as they walked through the camp. He saw a familiar back and looked to his father. 

"You held something back," Damian said. Bruce hummed and nodded. His eyes had been on Clark as he drifted away from camp out to the flowers. 

"I did." 

"What is it?" Jon asked. Damian held him a little tighter. 

"Clark hesitated. We managed to injure Triton like I said. But my sword was caught in his armor. Clark could have ended him there. I know that now. But he didn't because there would be no way of explaining how he had struck him with no weapon. I was defenseless and instead of picking up his sword or using his magic he pulled me out of the way. The Tamaran king took the attack meant for us. It was the blast from his death that dealt the final blow that knocked them back over the river. We managed to hold them there until the river returned. Triton did not return to the battlefield." 

"Why did you not tell us?" Jon asked 

"I did not wish to make your father feel like it was his fault. He is already blaming himself for so much." Bruce sighed. "I also did not want to put the idea in Damian's head that he should be foolish to succeed." 

"He won't," Jon promised and squeezed his arm. 

They ate and Jon tugged Damian to their tent to rest with him. He spent most of the time talking over his plans and trying to work them out before he told the others. Jon agreed to sleep when Damian left for the meeting. 

-

The next day they spent solidifying their groups and training. Jon looked better when he woke up. When he joined them for dinner he was laughing and joking with the other soldiers. He took their shoves and jostling with ease and Damian knew that when they woke up the next morning they would all be facing their biggest battle. He looked around at the men around them and wondered who would make it back with them and which of them he would never see again. He talked to as many of them as he could before the moon rose and they all headed to their pallets. 

-

"Damian," Jon whispered. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of his neck. Damian mumbled into the pillow his face was shoved into. He knew that it was not time to wake up. The world around them was too quiet. He kept his eyes closed maybe Jon would go back to sleep. "What if I am not strong enough?" 

Damian's eyes opened. He would not be going back to sleep. He moved his hand to turn around, but Jon caught it and pressed it to the bed. His face was still pressed against Damian's back. He relaxed into the mattress. "You are," Damian told him. He squeezed his hand. 

"What if I hesitate?" 

"You won't. You don't fear me," he said. He wished he didn't hear the question in his words. Jon kissed his shoulder. 

"No," Jon agreed. Damian pulled Jon's hand up and kissed it. Jon kissed his back and he felt his breaths tightening. Damian knew they should rest, but he would not stop this. He craved it too much. "How can they expect me to save them all?" Jon asked. He had not stopped pressing kisses across Damian's shoulders. 

"They don't." Jon made a noise of disagreement. "You cannot save them all. But you can manage one." 

"Who?" Jon asked. 

Damian turned to look at him. "Me." Jon looked surprised. "I know that you will always protect me. Even when I wish you wouldn't. I will not stop until we have reached the king. Because I know you will be at my side. I trust you and your magic. I know it's strength."

"I do not feel strong," Jon whispered. Damian pulled Jon's mouth against his and kissed him until his lungs ached. He looked at the faint glow of Jon's eyes as their bond stirred. 

"You are strong. Show me."

Jon's kisses spread down his neck and over his shoulders. His hands slid up the thin shirt Damian had worn to fight the night's chill. He pushed it off and Jon's lips found his skin. His breaths puffed against the mattress as Jon kissed every inch of his back. He was trembling beneath his touch. There was so much love coming through the bond. It twirled around the worry and fear of what was to come until there was nothing left but them. He pushed his pants down when he couldn't wait any longer. Jon moved up his back and kissed his neck as he slid a slick finger into him. 

"More." Damian pushed back. "Please." 

"So polite," Jon teased, but gave him more. He welcomed Jon's weight on him as he worked him open. "Beautiful," Jon said as Damian's body arched beneath him. "I love you."

Damian felt the hot tip press against his entrance and cried out his love for Jon as he slid in. Jon shushed him, but small noises dripped from his mouth as Jon slowly pulled him apart. He pushed back against him as best he could, met each move, and held onto Jon's hand when he couldn't. He felt their bond light up and build. 

"Jon," he cried. A soothing kiss caught his jaw. He turned, desperate for Jon's lips. The feeling rose within him as Jon's magic came alive beneath his skin. He felt it flow into him until he was full. "Please," he sobbed and with that word it flowed over and exploded around them. Jon molded into his back as if they were one as warmth washed over them. 

Jon nosed at his neck and Damian chuckled when he looked at the papers strewn around their tent. "Do you feel strong now? Cause I felt it." He smirked when Jon let him roll over. Jon's eyes flashed before he kissed him. Damian could hear the movement of the camp now and he wasn't sure if it was because it was time for them to prepare or if they had woken them all. 

They got ready, Damian's face was flushed and he wished that they had more time when Jon was done washing him. He kissed him as hotly as he could before picking up his dagger and pushing out of the tent. They had definitely woken the men. But the sky was changing its colors and the dawn was upon them. His face stayed hot as they walked through the camp. A few of the men who had been with them before called out to them. Jon laughed and drew Damian in. 

"Your Majesties." Damian froze when he heard Clark's voice. 

"Dad," Jon said with a chuckle and a hand on Damian's back. 

"Follow the plan," Clark said. "It is sound."

"I will," Jon said. Clark pat them both on the shoulders and looked torn as he looked them over. 

"Dad?" 

"I should go, get my men ready."

They watched Clark turn and take a few steps before stopping. Damian leaned forward waiting for something, but it didn't come. Clark just continued on to his group. Jon held onto Damian's hand as they walked through the groups. 

Damian stood with Jon at the far edge of the wall. Their group was standing yards away with the other men. He didn't know how many of the men could see them, but he kept their back to them and blocked Jon from their view. Damian watched Jon's shaking hand as it reached forward to touch the leaves of the sunflowers. He rubbed his thumb over one and closed his eyes. Damian felt Jon's sorrow as if it was his own. He stepped in front of Jon when he wordlessly held out his hand. Jon's hands slid down Damian's arms and their hands moved together as they stepped forward. He closed his eyes and breathed with Jon. 

This was something that none of the magicians thought would work. Gar had told them of a boy who wished for more power and the King had granted his wish and poured his power into him. He had burned from the inside. His screams had echoed down the halls for hours as the king continued until the boy was nothing but ash. Damian knew that heat. He did not remember much after, but he remembered the pain and the scream it had torn from his throat. But he trusted Jon. He trusted his magic not to harm him. 

"Are you ready?" Jon asked. The men were waiting on them, waiting for their way onto the battlefield to be opened to them. He would not keep them waiting. Damian nodded. 

He felt the power flowing up his arms, swirling around them. Then it struck him, wind on his face as he laughed and chased after Jon through the field of sunflowers. The sweetness of fruit on his tongue and a brush of soft fabric against his chin. Tear stained cheeks and soft lips on a scraped knee. He felt Lois. He gasped. 

"Damian?" Jon asked, but the flow of the magic did not stop. 

"I thought she hated me," he whispered as tears streaked down his face. 

Lois' magic wrapped around him like a warm blanket on a winter night. She had never hated him. He heard his own voice calling out for a shield for help. The voice of the child she'd held in her arms as her closest friend lost her life. The same voice that proclaimed his love for her son. He swore he could feel a palm on his cheek before the scent of sunflowers faded and it was gone. But it wasn't truly gone. It settled interwoven with Jon's magic within him. Jon's arms wrapped around his stomach and he breathed heavily into his shoulder. They stood still as the energy settled. Damian had felt no pain, and as Jon straightened and they stepped away from each other he felt none. He smiled at Jon. They had done what no one thought possible. He looked at the wall of flowers before them, now just flowers, no longer the solid armament they had been. They would do it again and claim their victory. 

Jon stepped forward and pushed. The flowers made a terrible noise before they fell. Their massive heads hit the ground on the Azerathian side of the river. Damian watched as the groups started to cross their makeshift bridge in the formations that he'd planned. Jon took his hand and they joined their group. 

"I hope you enjoyed your morning bugger. Might be the last romp you enjoy for a while." Constantine grumbled unhappily as Jon and Damian took their place in their small group, standing just outside of the others, concealed by the formation. Constantine was nervous. He had been a storm cloud of emotion all morning, Jon not even needing to reach out to feel his intent to know he was terrified. He had complained about Damian's plan more than anyone else, poked every hole he could until he had to accept that it was the best chance they had-- and now that they were here, watching their troops push forward, he was practically quaking. 

Jon watched him for a moment as Damian turned to speak to Raven and Gar to run down the plan again. Damian was afraid too, but it wasn't hindering in any way. If anything, Jon could feel the strength of his resolve more firmly now than he ever had. It fed into Jon's and gave him hope.

"I didn't take you for a coward, Constantine," Jon said, a small hint of amusement in his tone. 

The man glared at him and straightened his sword belt looking at it like it was about as useful as a butter knife. "I'm not a coward. I'm an intellectual. And it doesn't take one to know that this is a suicide mission."

"Would you have us do? Not fight?" 

"I didn't say that," he snapped and shook out his hands. "I just have a hard time smiling in the face of certain death. Unlike this crazy King that I know." He grumbled with a begrudging glare. Jon was fairly sure that behind the venom he was actually paying him a compliment.

"Are you ready?" Damian asked, keeping Jon from asking. Constantine fell silent then and Jon looked back at the rest of the group. There were a dozen groups with the five of them, all of them looking nervous at the prospect of their mission. It was a good plan. Send groups in stages and hit heavily from the right so that the enemy had their attention to the left while they came in undetected. It would be risky. With Kom'andr dead, Jon, Raven and Constantine were the strongest mages in the army and now they knew that Triton could track their magic. So they wouldn't be using their magic. Not until they had to. Not until the very end. 

Jon pulled out his long sword and the round Amazonian shield off of his back. Diana had given it to him as soon as the plan was set, and looking at Damian now, he was glad for it. He was going to protect Damian at all costs. No matter what happened to the rest of the group. "Ready," he agreed, pushing his reassurance through the bond until some of Damian's fear eased and his eyes glowed-- not with magic, but determination. 

They moved on their signal, the sound of clashing swords and shouts calling them forward as the left wing moved in. The group behind the right had already started their circle around the left of the enemies flank, leaving the right exposed and unsuspecting. Jon looked over to them as they stepped onto the bridge, wondering how they were doing. His father had led the first charge, Bruce the one that circled behind. Were they still alive? He saw Goliath flying menacingly over head, dipping into the crowd and picking Azarath soldiers up with him and letting them fall to the ground. It had been Jon's idea to have Goliath go with Bruce. The entire army had seen Damian ride him, they would expect the beast to be where he was. 

They didn't meet much resistance at first, only a few soldiers paying them much mind and they were easily fought off. The next wave wasn't as easy. The group behind the first seemed to notice who they were up against and came at them with a fury that was jarring. Raven fumbled with her sword, Jon had done his best to teach her in the few days they'd had. Barely able to move himself-- but there was only so much a few days could provide. She blocked the sword, arms shaking under the weight of the blow, and Jon stepped behind her to run him through. 

There was no time for her to thank him, they just moved on to the next group. They worked their way into the left flank, picking off a dozen at a time while their numbers dwindled. The twelve men they had started with had run down to four and then two, and then none. And it was just the five of them working their way through the crowd to the dark spot in the center where Jon just knew they would find the demon king. 

He was exhausted. His arms hurt and the blood on his face had dried and become itchy. The scar on his chest was screaming for him to take a moment's breath but Jon knew that to do that was to die. He caught a sword on his shield that was going for Damian's head and shoved them back before letting the shield drop. The man behind the pushed soldier already running at them with a barbaric scream, the point of his sword aimed at Jon's head. 

He didn't see Biz until his blood hit him, the sword meant for Jon running out of his back. The breath fell out of Jon and he didn't see what happened to the soldier, but he heard a horrible scream and then a cracking noise before Biz fell to his knees, the soldier's skull crushed before him. Jon grabbed his shoulder trying to keep him up, his hand moving to the hilt of the sword, but Biz grabbed his wrist.

"No," he said, the light in his eyes already dimming as tears sprang to Jon's, "Go." He told him, blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth as his deep eyes that Jon had at first found so frightening, fell almost peacefully shut. 

Damian pulled Jon's arm to keep him moving forward, Biz now on the ground with the rest of the fallen, looking giant still in death. Rage sank into Jon and he threw his shield back onto his back. He grabbed his second sword and ran at the next group of soldiers taking out his grief in the enemy. 

"Calm down," Damian told him when they had a break in the blades. He held tight onto Jon's elbow and looked at him fiercely. "We can grieve after the war is won. You have to keep your mind clear." Jon took a breath and nodded. He knew that Damian was right. If he kept acting out of emotion then he would surely get himself killed. Damian let go of his arm to parry the next attack and shouted, "Breathe and move." At him, shaking Jon enough out of his head to push forward. 

It was a bloodbath. Every step they took it seemed like a new face that they knew was added to the death toll. They passed a few of the fallen Amazons who had helped teach them, Artemis among them, her blessed scythe still clutched in her cold hand. They found Tiger towards the front, five arrows sticking him through with a twisted smile on his face--like somehow this death was good even though it turned Jon's stomach. And so many of the soldiers they had grown to appreciate and have comradeship with were scattered between. But the worst didn't come until they were almost at their destination. The dark glow making Jon's eyes burn and glow through the surroundings, Triton's head sticking out above the rest. The blood curling scream didn't come from Barbara who laid dead in Diana's arms, but instead from the warrior Queen who was glaring at the Demon King, exuding the purest form of hatred that Jon had ever felt. She released her wife and grabbed her spear taking a running jump at the man before she launched it at his head. 

Triton caught the spear and in the blink of an eye he sent it right back at Diana who caught it on her shield, not bothering to flinch when the point pierced the metal and went into her arm. She pulled her swords and ran at him, Jon catching Damian's arm when he went to follow.

"No, we can't-" Jon started. But Damian's eyes were wide and his determination ran through the bond to Jon again. 

"She'll get herself killed," he told Jon, pulling against his hold. Jon looked up at Diana, his heart beating hard at the thought of watching her being struck down before he finally let Damian go and ran with him. 

"What are you--" Constantine started before another soldier came up behind him and he was too preoccupied trying not to die to shout anything but, " _Idiots!"_ After them. 

Jon barely registered it. The sound of the battle around them starting to swell in his ears until there was an almost bubble-like quality. Everything sounded slow and far away and Jon couldn't hear anything but his own heart rushing in his ears. He looked to his left and saw Damian there, eyes straight forward and glowing, looking beautiful in his fury. He knew he should be looking for Raven next, but he didn't want to take his eyes off of his husband. Just in case this was the last time… he wanted to remember all of him. 

Every touch they had shared. Every kiss. Every laugh that looked like Damian would have rather held in but he couldn't. Every fight they had had and every makeup after. A lifetime of promises and love. No matter how short that lifetime seemed then-- All of it was there in his face. His beating heart in the form of a person. 

He pried his eyes away and pulled at his magic, stirring deep in his stomach as he shouted. Triton's sword that had been heading for Diana's neck bounced off the barrier and his grimace turned seething when he turned and saw their group closing in. 

A burst of pure and dark energy came at them, both Damian and Jon diving away in opposite directions as they barely missed the attack. He collided with Raven who he hadn't even noticed was at his side, the dust too heavy for him to see where Damian had gone. Jon grit his teeth and ran to the side, pulling Raven out of the way as the next beam came straight for them. He managed to duck behind a river rock big enough to be considered a bolder but still smooth from years of water running over it. It nullified the attack and gave Jon and Raven a moment to breath as the next one crashed into the other side.

"Where is Gar?" Raven hissed frantically turning her head rapidly from side to side as she started to panic. "We got separated, I have to find him, I have to-"

"There is no time," Jon told her, grabbing her shoulders. His own heart was beating wildly, only the link of the bond telling him that Damian was still out there keeping him from losing it at that moment. He knew what the panic was, but they could not afford to fall into it. Not now. Another burst of energy hit to bolder and it gave a loud crack, not crumbling, but he knew they wouldn't be able to stay there long. "We will find Gar, but first we must finish this. We have to stop this war." Her purple eyes looked between both of his and his softened slightly. "Please," he added as the stone cracked again and she finally bit her lip and nodded. 

They moved when the next blast hit. Ducking out of either side of the bolder as it finally shattered and running at the king. Jon dropped his swords, he knew that whatever attack came at him now. They wouldn't do him any good against whatever attack Triton threw at him. Triton's eyes went straight to Jon and he threw all his strength into a shield before the dark beam came crashing down on him. He dug his feet into the ground, the blood slick soil pushing him deeper as he grit his teeth focusing on holding the man back. He wasn't going to be able to stop it from shattering. His muscles were screaming and he could barely breathe--but he could feel Damian there in his chest and he held onto it until the beam shuttered and stopped. 

Jon opened his eyes and saw Triton blinking in surprise, a grimace clear on his devil face as he blocked his daughter's attack. He said something low to her and he saw Raven's face twist in anger to the point where it was almost unrecognizable. 

Jon knew that he had to move. He pulled his feet out of the soil and stuck his hand into the ground, ripping it up with all the new magic he could gather. A long tangle of vines ripped a path through the ground until they were winding their way around Triton's legs, keeping him in place. He growled and ripped at them, but the vines just regrew. Raven hit him with another burst of energy and Triton had to abandon his attempt to get free. Jon hit him from the other side, the blow landing for just a moment before the man managed to block it, holding them both off with gritted teeth. It turned into a sinister smile even though his arms were shaking in effort to hold them off. "You did not think this would actually work did you?" He chuckled and Jon's stomach flipped at the sound of his gravel voice. "No man has bested me before. None ever will." 

And Jon almost believed him. Because he was tired. So tired that he could have closed his eyes and been done at that moment. They had lost so many today. Men and women that Jon knew and respected. People who would be grieved. But that was what kept him from sinking. Because Jon knew that all of this couldn't have been for nothing. He let out a shout and dropped the attack, growing move vines at him until his arm was locked in place. Triton ripped free and Jon threw them again and again and then added another burst of energy, refusing to give up. He could see that Triton was getting sluggish, even as he chuckled and continued to parry every move. "Foolish Kent. Do you really believe I'd let you be the end of me?"

And Jon felt it. The spark of elation in his chest that didn't belong to him. He threw more vines, grabbing both of his arms as blood gushed out of Triton's mouth, as a broad sword burst through his chest. He looked down surprised as Jon and Raven closed in on him, Damian pulling his sword from the giant's back and coming around to stand at Jon's side. Triton fell to his knees, glaring up at them.

"No," Jon answered him easily, grabbing Damian's hand in his own. "I was never foolish enough to think I could do this on my own." 

The demon opened his mouth to speak, but Jon turned to Raven who's eyes were glowing dark and furious. He looked at his daughter, her name at his lips, but she didn't let them come out. She pressed her hand to her fathers head and with a sprinkle of words he let out a horrifying shout. 

Jon pulled Damian to him as air burst out of Triton, rushing over the battlefield as the darkness all pulled into the center and ran upward in a tall tower of twilight. It ran into the sky as Triton crumbled before them, his skin flaking away into ash until that was all he was. The darkness ran out of him and disappeared until all that was left in the sky was the smokey mark of a raven above their heads. 

The battle stopped, the crowd of soldiers from both armies falling in together to see what had happened and how it had ended. When the dust settled, all that was left in the center of the circle were the three of them. Jon and Damian huddled together and Raven at their side. He wasn't sure who let out the first cheer, but it sounded suspiciously like Ka'tham. But it didn't matter. The ones that followed drowned him out. He was surprised to see that it wasn't just their men, but Azarath soldiers as well. Some of them retreated, running away terrified of what may come of them without the demon king but most just cheered and bowed to their new Queen. 

Jon looked at Damian. His breath came out heavy but joyful in his disbelief, turning into a sort of laugh. They had done it. It was over. They had won. And Damian was laughing too, holding Jon's face in his hands and he kissed him.

"I love you," he said between each breath until their fathers forced their way through the crowd and pulled them into a tight embrace. 

-

Gathering the dead was a difficult task. They spent the evening building piers and laying down their fallen to send them off to the next plain. It was harder still to be with the ones who grieved. He listened to his father comfort Diana for as long as he could bare, promising her that the Sumerland was very real for he had been there and that Barbara would be waiting there for her. 

He watched the fires that held his friends, melting away Tiger and Biz and Artemis and so many countless more. He wondered what it would be like now. Now that there was nothing they had to run from, no great battle to prepare for. Would life just go back to how it was before all of it?

But no. Of course he knew that it wouldn't. The life they had been pushed out of was gone forever. Damian was no longer a sullen Prince and Jon was not his guard. They were married now. Kings of a united Gotham. Nothing would ever be the way it was ever again. 

He felt Damian sit next to him rather than saw him, the bond even stronger still to where Jon was sure he could go blind and know his husband immediately. He kept his eyes on the fire until he felt something light laid across his lap and looked down. It was a sunflower. A lone, large sunflower that looked as if it had somehow come out of the battle completely untouched. Jon ran his hand over the petals and smiled, the memory of the Gotham breeze running through the field at his home flooding his senses.

"What is this for?" He asked Damian halfheartedly, the battle still sitting heavy after their victory. But as always, Damian's smile pulled at him from the inside, pushing his woes temporarily away. 

But Damian did not have an answer for him. Jon offered him a half smile of his own as Damian lifted Jon's hand to his lips and they sat there watching the grieving and the grieved. There was a lot they still had to talk about. New treaties to be made and Coronations to be planned. Triton would not be the end of their problems. Life was messy and their people's hate for magic still ran deep. There would be trials. Hardships that tasted them-- but for that moment they did not need to speak on them. They just sat in grateful quiet holding onto each other in the silent agreement that the rest could wait until they got home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go... The end. 
> 
> Hope you liked it. :D
> 
> We have a JayTim side story for this universe that should be out next week.
> 
> -DNA

**Author's Note:**

> Be our friends and follow DNA and I on twitter at [@PBrubbs](https://twitter.com/PBrubbs) and [@Dnawhite51](https://twitter.com/Dnawhite51). See the process of our day to day writing frustrations and pictures of our dogs. We are very lame and old and we want to talk to you.


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